


Les Pirates du Musain

by youllalwaysfitinwithme



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Pirates AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-30 13:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12654018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youllalwaysfitinwithme/pseuds/youllalwaysfitinwithme
Summary: "It was unusual for crews to survive a fight against Patron-Minette, but somehow, these people had. She knew about them, Les Amis -or so Gavroche had talked about them in the streets of Paris long ago. The flag had given them away: a plain red cloth, the color of the revolution they sought. Éponine knew nothing about their motives, or their cause; she just knew that there was a bounty on their heads, and that was the reason they fled Paris and took their revolution to the sea. Whatever their cause had to do with Patron-Minette, she had no clue. But if they had been able to stand their ground and end up victorious in the fight, Éponine could only assume that they were just as dangerous."





	1. Jondrette

> The sea is the inexorable social night into which the penal laws fling their condemned. The sea is the immensity of wretchedness.
> 
> -Victor Hugo, _Les Misèrables_

 

Éponine had never been one to believe in such giddy things as miracles, though she had to admit that she was silly enough to dream.Dreams were all that fed her more often than not, when times were tougher and she was on her own. And so she was full of dreams, silly big dreams; unattainable, but dreams nonetheless. And what were dreams if not hopes? Yes, she was full of those as well: hopes of a better self, hopes of a better future -most times, hopes of a future, period. Dreams, hopes... the concepts mingled inside the naive part of her self where they inhabited -a part which she refused to let go of-, to the point where sometimes she couldn't tell one from the other. They both depended on chance, on her; it provided Éponine some sort of power to know herself to be the maker of her own fortune. But dreams and hopes had nothing to do with miracles. Miracles didn't exist, Éponine knew. There was no outside force that changed fates and lives alike. And so Éponine had never hoped for a miracle, life had taught her better. 

However, what happened that day had no other word, no better description. That day, Les Amis flooded unexpectedly into Éponine's life, and that's when a series of miracles came to happen.

 

It had been three days since L'ombre du Mer had lost sight of the ship chasing after them. It had taken time, more than it usually took, but L'ombre was well known for its speed in the open sea. It was a ship of thiefs and murderers after all, they couldn't afford but to travel faster than their enemies. Of course, the ship had its limitations to favour speed, but for the men at Patron-Minette, a smaller ship and the possibility of only a few cannons supposed but mere disadvantages: they didn't need the space, since they were a small group which in its better days had seen a crew of fifteen men (and those days were far behind);  they didn't need the cannons either. As much as L'ombre was known for its speed, Patron-Minette was known for its ruthlessness. No ship dared to open fire on them, and on the occasions that they did, the sound of cannons didn't satisfy the men's appetite for blood as much as the swords in ther belts. 

Cruel men dwellt on that ship. It was a dangerous place for unwelcomed passengers; but not for her. Éponine was safe from harm, being her father a member of the crew himself. That other girl though... she had discovered first hand the wickedness of the crew. And the worst was yet to come.

 

Cosette had done nothing to deserve it, Éponine knew, but there she was either way, a victim caught in the middle of their fathers' quarrel. She was just a means to an end, and that end was revenge. 

Years ago, Cosette's father -Jean Valjean was his name- took the girl in his care and paid a generous sum to her then family, the Thénardiers. Éponine and Cosette grew as sisters for a number of years, until Valjean took Cosette away. Éponine didn't know the full story, still didn't quite understand it, but her father blamed Jean Valjean for the misery that befell the Thénardiers in the following years. That's the reason her father was seeking revenge on the man, and cruel as he was, he wanted to take away the most precious thing to him; he intended to murder Cosette.

The Lark was pale as ever as she stood there, soft wind blowing strands of golden hair into her face, hands tied behind her back, and tears wetting her cheeks. Thénardier had decided that after all of the trouble to bring her there, a simple shot from a gun was not enough. It was too easy, he said, she needed to suffer. And so they had laid a plank on one side of the deck, its length stretched out in the air, above the waters that awaited poor Cosette. Drowning was said to be one terrible death; it was rather slow, and though the water was stone cold, they said your lungs were set on fire when the water reached them. And then, of course, there was the human instict for survival, which made the person refuse and fight against their inevitable fate, making the struggle even worse. 

Éponine felt pity for her. She didn't deserve to die, let alone die like this. But there was nothing she could do, just cross her arms over her flattened chest, and pray that the suffering of the girl didn't last too long.

And then the miracle happened.

 

It took only seconds for the calm to turn into madness. They appeared out of nowhere. Not a single person within L'ombre seemed to have heard nor seen them approach. Soon enough, the men of Patron-Minette were wielding their swords as the newcomers boarded their ship. They put up a fight, even though they were clearly outnumbered. All but her. The sounds of metal against metal rang in Éponine's ears as she stood there, unmoving, paralysed by the realisation that her end had come too soon. She noticed the people around her, but she didn't dare to move, her gaze fixed on the red flag of the intruders' ship. And then a cry rang even louder than the clashing of swords, one unlike any she had ever heard, as Cosette was pushed over the plank and into the waters. 

She didn't know why she did it, the only thing Éponine knew was that suddenly she was running after the Lark, and jumping from the plank herself. The water was freezing under the setting sun, her head hurt from the collision, but her instict to help the girl was stronger than any physical malady. And so Éponine dived her way to the girl's body, which was sinking rapidly and helpless as her hands were still firmly tied at her back. She grabbed hold of Cosette's shoulders and pulled her towards the surface, but the girl's body was heavy under the weight of her dress, and Éponine was running out of air in the effort. She felt panic reign over every nerve in her body as she was confronted with the realization that, eventually, she would have to choose between this girl's life or her own.

Then Éponine saw a flash of auburn hair and pale skin, as another pair of hands took hold of Cosette's waist and helped carry the girl to the surface, where she frantically coughed and gasped for air. The man helped them into the ship, offered ropes that were lifted by the other men shouting from the deck. Once she was unceremoniusly hurled onto the wooden surface, Éponine only managed to suck in a breath and catch a glimpse of red cloth hanging from the mast, before she felt the cold metal of a sword against her throat.

"Enjolras stop!" one of the men shouted. Éponine couldn't see who it had been, but she didn't care. Her complete attention belonged to the man threatening her life. Her eyes were fixed on her attacker, his eyes were burning with hate, and she suddenly felt very small under such glare. "The boy was helping her! He's done nothing wrong!"

"He was in their ship, he's scum just like them!" Enjolras replied. But as he glanced at the crew around them, he seemed less sure of his intent. His sword was still pressed against her throat, though; Éponine couldn't move under his hold.

"We don't do this" another man spoke, and Éponine heard footsteps getting closer, "if we just kill him we're not better than them!"

"Then what do you suggest we do, Combeferre? We can't just let him run around our ship and hope he doesn't kill us while we sleep."

"He's not dangerous, just look at him" another one said with a chuckle, "he's just a boy."

Were she in a position to defend herself, Éponine would've told these men that she wasn't just a boy, and that she could be just as dangerous as them. The words were burning at the tip of her tongue, but she was smarter than that, and at that moment, with a sword threatening her life and surrounded by strangers, Éponine was grateful that her façade had served her once again to avoid unwanted situations. She didn't like to be thought of as weak, but this one time she was grateful to be overlooked. They hadn't even noticed she was a girl; it was the best outcome she could think of. 

"Please, mercy" she managed to speak. Her voice was fittingly hoarse from the water she'd swallowed, and it encouraged her to try harder, "I'm not like them, I'm not a murderer."

Enjolras stared, doubting her words, but at least the rage seemed to have vanished from his eyes. Éponine felt she could breath a lot easier once his blade stopped threatening her life. 

"Take him to the sickbay. We'll hold you there until we know what to do with you."

 

 

Her wrists hurt where the rope had been tied a little bit too tight, her head was buzzing from the events of the day, and her clothes were still damp from her jump into the sea, which would surely result in a bad cold. But Éponine couldn't complain about her situation, not when the floor of the sickbay was a mess of blood and men lying there so pale, she wondered if they were still breathing. There was a man running around, checking on the injured and tending to their wounds. He was so nervous that Éponine wondered if maybe he was having a panic attack. 

She counted five men in the room, two of them unconscious and missing members, the other three awake and grunting whenever the one she assumed was the doctor applied alcohol to their wounds. They were lucky, these men. Or maybe they were victims to another miracle, just like Cosette. It was unusual for crews to survive a fight against Patron-Minette, but somehow, these people had. She knew about them, Les Amis -or so Gavorche had talked about them in the streets of Paris long ago. The flag had given them away: a plain red cloth, the color of the revolution they sought. Éponine knew nothing about their motives, or their cause; she just knew that there was a bounty on their heads, and that was the reason they fled Paris and took their revolution to the sea. Whatever their cause had to do with Patron-Minette, she had no clue. But if they had been able to stand their ground and end up victorious in the fight, Éponine could only assume that they were just as dangerous.

 

It had been hours since the sickbay fell into a calm silence, only interrupted by occasional grunts and the snoring of men. Éponine wondered how Cosette was. Were they treating her well? Was she welcomed in their ship? Surely, she wouldn't be tied up to a post like her; she was easy to trust, a pretty little bird who could do no harm. Once again, she felt the envy towards the girl stirring her blood. But the feeling was replaced with alert when she heard footsetps nearing her spot. Actually, she was relieved now that she wasn't in Cosette's place. If these men were dangerous, the worst they could do was kill her, she was just a boy to them. However, if they knew she was a woman, Éponine would have a lot more reasons to worry. 

A pair of dirty black boots interrupted her line of vision, and when Éponine looked up, there he was. Pale face, auburn hair, and a gentle gaze. The man crouched down in front of her and Éponine noticed his face was covered in freckles. He was a handsome man, and Éponine had to lower her head to hide her blush when he patted down her legs and boots looking for any sign of a weapon. When he found none, he untied her from the post and she graced her wrists, grateful for the tickling that woke her hands from the numbness.

"Stand up and follow me. And don't do anything stupid." His voice was gentle as well, even despite the words uttered. 

Éponine followed the man quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor as to not attract any unwanted attention. They climbed a narrow flight of stairs and crossed the deck. It was already night, and the breeze chilled Éponine to the bone despite the wool of her shirt. She would need a coat soon if she survived that night, the vest she was wearing served the only purpose of hiding her physique and did nothing to shelter her from cold winds. They made their way through an open door, and Éponine found herself standing in front of the angry man, the one who had held a sword against her throat. He was sitting at a desk, reading some letters that seemed to be forgotten as soon as they interrupted. The other man made a sign for her to sit down on the spare chair, and she did. And then the questioning began.

"What should we call you, boy?" the man behind the desk asked. He didn't look as much of a threat anymore, with a pen in his hand instead of a blade.

"Jondrette" Éponine replied. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't her real name either. She was born a Thénardier, but that name had become too infamous since their affiliation to Patron-Minette. Jondrette was a safer bet if she intended to keep a low profile. 

"Jondrette... do you care to explain your involvement with Patron-Minette?" 

"I run errands for them. Bring and deliver messages, nothing else." 

"What use is that on a ship?" Éponine shrugged her shoulders, trying to look both innocent and impassive, "I just go where they tell me." She needed to keep her answers shorts. Her voice was less hoarse than hours before, and although she was used to faking a deep tone, her voice was still a woman's voice, there was no costume that could hide that.

"Did they tell you to go after the girl?" he asked. Éponine heard a muffled sound coming from the man behind her, and she realised she wasn't the only one who found that question stupid.

"They wanted her dead. Why would they ask me to go after her?"

"Then, why did you save her?" he questioned, and she could feel his eyes scanning hers for any sign of a lie.

"She didn't deserve it" was all she offered. And then she felt the urge to ask, she needed to know. "Did you kill them all?"

The captain -or so she suppossed he was- seemed taken by surprise by the question, almost offended. "We don't execute people. We were winning and they fled, that's all. Why? Do you care for them?"

"No" she answered a little bit too fast. She didn't have a good father, she knew, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him dead. Far away from her, though, she could almost thank these men for that. "They will want revenge. They will come back for her."

"Hopefully, she will be safely back in Paris when that time comes" the man behind her intervened, and he sounded more concerned than scared of the imminent threat.

"Will I?" Éponine dared to ask. It was time to know what these men intended to do with her.

"You will, unless you choose to join us." 

"Marius, stop that. We don't know if he can be trusted" the captain said, and he seemed irritated by the unexpected sympathy displayed to a complete stranger. 

"Enjolras, will  _you_ stop? He rescued the girl, and it is very clear that he means no harm, he hasn't even tried to escape. Besides, we need more people, don't we?"

"So you think we should let him to roam the ship on his own? Just like that?"

"I know this  _boy_ , Enjolras" a voice mockingly claimed front the side of the room. A voice Éponine knew far too well. Had he been there all along? "You don't need to worry about him at all. Gavroche will keep an eye on him."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this adventure.  
> This is my first story about Les Misèrables, and as you may have guessed already, it's Éponine centric. I have been obsessed with Les Mis for a while, and the discovery of the Enjonine ship recently was what inspired me to write my first long story in years. It has taken me a few months to write, but it's already complete, so I'll be posting regularly.
> 
> English is not my first language, so excuse any mistakes in advance, and feel free to let me know if you find any.
> 
> I hope you continue to read and enjoy as much as I did writing it!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as youwillalwaysfitinwithme
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	2. Le Musain

Éponine was on watch duty at the crow's nest. The night was quiet and warm, and the moon wide and white in the sky. It was too peaceful to be safe. She looked around her, scanning the dark horizon for any sign of a threat, but there was only a vast darkness and an endless sea as far as her sight could reach. And then she spotted it, right in front of her, so close she wondered how she could have missed it. She turned around to alert the crew, but her shout was silenced by the feeling of cold metal boring into her skin. Montparnasse smiled wickedly at her as he twisted the sword inside her belly. 

Éponine didn't make a sound. She was well used to nightmares, and they didn't have as much an impact on her anymore, not as they did when she was younger and she would wake up to her own screams. At some point, she had come to realize that her nightmares couldn't reach her, not really, and then, some time later, she had realized that reality wasn't all that much better, so waking up didn't grant that much of a relief. The nightmares had grown on her, and lived under her skin. But she couldn't feel sorry for herself, she assumed that that was just how every child who grew up on the streets must feel like. She was nothing special, and neither were her nightmares. She wished they were less recurrent though, just so she could sleep a little bit longer in the mornings.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and jumped from the hammock that had been her bed for the night. She landed soundlessly on her feet, and, making sure everybody was still asleep, she slipped out of the room with a bucket in her hands. Éponine made her way to the hold and, thankfully, saw no sign of life yet. She filled the bucket with some water and took her shirt off to proceed with her bath -if a mere rinse with water could be considered as such. She had been waiting for days to do this, but it had been too dangerous to do it while people were running around. And on this ship, there always seemed to be people running around, no matter how late or early the hour. When she was finished, she couldn't say she felt brand new, but at least, a little bit cleaner. She then proceeded to pee on the same bucket -another thing that had caused her trouble over the days, and intense pains on her lower stomach from holding it in. It was a great relief to let it all out in the middle of the morning silence, so much that she wished the world remained asleep for a few more hours. 

But the world had never granted her a favour, why would it start now? As soon as she stepped out of the hold, the stairs were busy with people running to their morning duties. She had none, since Enjolras still didn't trust her, so she went up the stairs to the lower deck to try and find Cosette. The girl had a cabin of her own, of course, although she didn't spend much time there. The Lark had surprised Éponine with her ability to mingle with pirates; she seemed to be even more comfortable around them than Éponine herself. But that was due to the fact that Cosette was free to be herself around them, a privilege which she did not enjoy. Besides, most of them had proven to be respectful and even protective towards the girl, it was just right that she would spend her time with them instead of secluded in her cabin for propriety's sake. 

This early in the morning though, Éponine found her lying in her bed (a thin matress laid over a few pallets) with a book in her hands.

"Is that a new book?" Éponine questioned. 

Cosette smiled and nodded as she sat down to make space for the girl. "Shall we read it together now?" she offered.

In the past few days, Éponine's visits to the Lark's cabin had been more than usual. With little to nothing to do, and her need to keep her guard up, she found herself knocking on the girl's door more often than not. There was no need to pretend with Cosette -she knew about her secret, of course, and although she had doubted Éponine's ability (and need) to keep it up during all the journey back to France, she understood her reasoning and promised not to tell.  _You owe me_ , Éponine had reminded her. And the girl swore that she would never forget about that day.

"How generous of Monsieur Pontmercy" Éponine pointed out as she sat beside Cosette, "I wonder if he indulges all of their guests like this."

"I'm sure he does" Cosette replied calmly, although her cheeks were rosier than usual. Then, she added whispering "I bet he would indulge you too. If he knew, that is."

Éponine couldn't help but blush at the idea of such a fine gentleman showing any kind of attention towards her. From the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw a small smile forming on the other woman's lips.

"No, he wouldn't" she snickered, "such a man has no business with a girl like me." It wasn't a lie, and that's the reason Éponine's insides twisted at the realization. He was too kind, too rich, too handsome, too much of everything she wouldn't mind having, and at the same time, everything she could never aspire to have. She felt once again suddenly jealous of Cosette. "You, though, he is clearly infatuated by you."

"Oh, the things you say, Éponine" Cosette smiled, but she had been too loud, and both girls froze as they stared at the open door, waiting for a sign that someone might have heard. 

Éponine knew that the crew had been keeping an eye on her. Her constant presence besides the girl had granted Éponine more than one suspicious look from the rest of the men; although they had accepted her and even enjoyed her company, it was hard for them to grasp the idea that Cosette would want to spend so much time with one of her former captors. It was alright -Cosette had had to promise Marius-, it was forgiven, and she wanted to help the boy learn. And that, she was in fact doing. With books that she borrowed from Marius, Cosette was helping Éponine refresh what little education she'd got as a child. It kept them both occupied, and it made them forget for a little while that they would be trapped in that ship for at least ten more days.

After a few minutes had passed and no one had barged in, the girls allowed themselves to relax and their attention was shifted back to the book.

 

 

The thought of going back to Paris made Éponine anxious. She didn't miss being at L'ombre, not at all, but being there she had the certainty that she would eat at least once a day. Now that she was at Le Musain, the situation was the same: she didn't want to stay with these men, but at least with them she was fed often -and why not admit it-, she even felt safe. Éponine dreaded the moment that they would reach land; she would be back on the street, and this time she would be all alone. Not even Gavroche would be there, for he certainly would choose Le Musain and les Amis over starving in the streets with her. And she honestly couldn't blame him. It terrified her to think about it, so she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and tried to focus on the present. 

She needed a plan, something to do once they parted ways. During the first days on that ship, Éponine had considered the possibility of selling them out. She just needed to talk to the right person, and she would be as rich as the Pontmercys... But as days went by, that plan seemed less and less attractive, for how could she sell out Marius, who she had grown so fond of? Or Joly, who now and then made sure to check on her for any signs of a new cold? How could she sell out Prouvarie, who made her feel like a lady in a salon whenever he recited poetry? And how could she fathom to sell out Grantaire, who had welcomed her without reservations and even allowed her to play cards when she had nothing to bet? These men were the closest thing Éponine had had to a group of friends, and the idea of betraying them made her stomach twist. 

She had considered the obvious possibility a few days back: she could just stay. But it was easier said than done... that plan had two holes the size of France in it: on one hand, she couldn't keep on pretending to be a man forever, and once they figured she wasn't one, Éponine wasn't sure they would be as welcoming to her as they had been to Jondrette. On the other hand, there was Enjolras. The man would never accept her as a member of the crew; he was still suspicious of her, and firm as he was on his beliefs, Éponine couldn't even fathom that he would come to trust her any time soon. She was pretty sure the man slept with one eye open just in case she decided to go on a murder spree. He was ridiculously stubborn, but she guessed that it was precisely his constant alert that had kept them alive all this time.

No, she couldn't stay. The only thing left for her when they reached land were the streets of Paris.

 

 

The nights were her favourite part of being at Le Musain. At night the crew gathered on the deck to share rum and stories. It was at night that Éponine could relax and be herself around these men, more so than during the day, when she couldn't afford to let her guard down. She felt more comfortable at night, with darkness as a blanket safely tucked around her. The shadows were her allies, and the rum helped make her voice more gutural. That night, their discussion had somehow drifted towards Patron-Minette, but the rum had already soothed her senses and her tongue, and had left her with no chance to worry about what she might say.

"For all the stories I have heard, they didn't seem much of a threat when we fought them" Bahorel said. The rest of the crew gathered there didn't quite agree.

"Mind what you say, I wouldn't wish for our paths to cross ever again" Courfeyrac said, emptying the content of his cup and then placing it with a resounding thud on the floor. "I still get chills thinking about that day."

"There was something wrong about them... the look in their eyes..." whatever Feuilly had wanted to say, he couldn't find the words to utter the rest of the sentence. The crew fell into an uncomfortable silence then, each man deep in their own thoughts. 

"From what I've heard about them, we were more than lucky to live to see another day" Prouvarie added, although there was no fear in the way he said it, it was as casual a remark as the ones someone would use to talk about the weather. "They say they enjoy killing their enemies with their own hands, and that's why they have so very few cannons."

"I've been told their leader eats the hearts of the men he kills, and that he cannot be killed himself."

Bahorel laughed at this, "Anyone can be killed, you silly Courf."

"And what about that story of the island?" Feuilly questioned, "It's impossible for any man to survive such a voyage."

"There was a witch somewhere in that story, aye?" Grantaire asked amused.

"Yes, there was a witch indeed. It must have been her who cursed him to lead such a life forever."

"Have you got nothing to say, Jondrette?" Grantaire questioned smiling. "You are the only one here who can say to have lived among those men. What do you say? Are they immortal?"

"No one is immortal" she started with a chuckle, "but there is indeed some truth to that story about the island. I heard it from Montparnasse himself". The crew was expectant, their eyes all focused on her as she took a sip from her drink, "Before he joined Patron-Minette he had sailed with another crew, pirates just like them, but more interested in treasures than blood. They had abandoned him on some island across the ocean, he never mentioned why. But what he did mention was that he met a native woman who helped him find and repair a ship to get back to the country. He did indeed sail on that ship all alone, and made it back with the woman as his slave. The rest of it is of course a made-up version by some drunk in a tavern of Paris. The ship was never a raft, the woman was never a witch, and Montparnasse never became immortal."

"I think I like better the version with the witch" Grantaire replied disappointed.

"And what they say about the hearts? Did you ever see him eat them?" Courfeyrac asked, his mouth twisted in a gesture of disgust. Éponine laughed. 

"He is a rather twisted man, but I cannot say I have seen him eat anyone's heart."

"Aren't you afraid of him?" Prouvarie asked, concern evident in his expression and his voice, "You smile while talking about them, but don't you fear that they might come looking for their missing member?"

That idea hadn't even occurred to Éponine, so when it was presented for her to ponder, she felt the blood on her veins go a little colder. A chill ran through her body at the memory of the previous night's dream and his blade twisting inside her stomach. Of course she was afraid, she just hadn't realised it until then.

The crew had fallen silent again, waiting for her response, but she couldn't think of words to explain it when the image was so vivid in her mind. She was afraid that if she spoke, she would sound panicked. Thankfully, Grantaire always had a remark to make, and although they usually came at the wrong times, Éponine was grateful for the timing of this one. 

"God, Prouvarie, you sure know how to make a man recover his sobriety." And then they forgot about it. But not Éponine. And that night, she saw him again in her dreams. This time, Montparnasse was feasting on her heart.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!  
> Hope you liked this little peek at their life on the ship. I love writing scenes with les amis, and there will be plenty more to come.  
> Thanks for reading!!


	3. All Aboard!

Morning found Éponine bent over the railing, emptying the contents of her stomach out into the sea. Her grunts didn't help muffle the sounds of laughter from the crew, who were apparently enjoying the young boy's sickness. 

"Who knew someone so little could have so much inside?" Bahorel asked to the amusement of the rest. 

"If you can't hold it in, we won't give you no more rum Jondrette!" Courfeyrac shouted, earning some more laughs and making Éponine blush.

She hadn't noticed at the moment, but the previous night, right after the Patron-Minette discussion was forgotten, her drinking speed had considerably increased. She wasn't sure how much she'd had, but considering her current state, it had been a bit much more than she could handle. 

Once she had nothing left in her stomach, Éponine turned and slid down to sit with her back against the railing, not daring to wander the ship just in case. She felt relieved to notice that no one was paying attention to her anymore, as everyone had resumed their tasks. Her eyes wandered the ship looking for a distraction, until she noticed the man in red glaring at her from the quarterdeck.  _So that's the reason everyone's working instead of mocking me_ , she thought. 

Enjolras was standing there with both hands firmly holding onto the railing, mouth twisted in disgust at the poor sight of her, and clearly upset that she had dared to make such a spectacle of herself. She cursed under her breath and looked away when, from the corner of the eye, she saw him moving towards her.

"Rough night, Jondrette?" he asked once he was standing right in front of the girl. He didn't bother to crouch down to meet her eyes, and glared instead from high above. That was the reason she didn't bother to stand up and show respect either.

"Rough morning, captain. Just some motion sickness, nothing that should be of your concern."

"I told you not to call me that" he said exasperated. 

Éponine knew; she knew he didn't like to be referred to as the captain of the ship, as he apparently considered himself just another member of the crew whose task was to lead the others. Éponine had had to bite her tongue and keep her opinion (that  _that_ was the very definition of captain) to herself, but she used the word on the few occassions when they talked, if only to bother him. 

"And of course it is of my concern" he continued. "Everything that happens on this ship is of my concern, and that includes the times in which the crew decides to be irresponsible and put themselves in danger."

"I thought I wasn't part of the crew", she said boldly. By the look on his face, that answer only added to his annoyance. 

"That still doesn't justify putting yourself  _and_ the others in danger, Jondrette."

"Danger? Of what, stepping on my own vomit,  _captain_?" she asked incredulous. Éponine looked away from his eyes and behind his back, where the crew was not-so-discreetly trying to listen to their conversation.

"You certainly are more stupid than you seem. What happens if a ship attacks us right now, uh? Do you think you are in a position to fight back? Do you think you can defend yourself, like that?"

"I..."

"No, you cannot" he cut her, imposing. "And let me tell you what happens then: someone dies trying to save you."

"I wouldn't..." 

"And all because you were reckless and got drunk beyond your limits."

At that moment, Éponine wished she had stood up earlier, if only to not feel so small under his gaze. She didn't know what to say, and felt like his words had pierced into her senses. He was right, she had been reckless, and in her stupidity she could get someone killed, if not herself. It was a dramatic scenario, but a possibility no matter how remote. She looked at him again, swallowed her pride, and murmured: "It won't happen again."

He just nodded before leaving her alone again, this time with a feeling of shame to add to that of the hangover.

"So you can't drink" Gavroche said as he approached shortly after, an amused smile mocking her state. 

Éponine sighed, "Apparently, I cannot."

"Well, if they ever suspected there was a lady under those pants, they surely won't now. Ladies don't drink and puke like that."  

Éponine shushed him, worried that someone might hear him. "How would you know about what ladies do or don't anyway, little brat? You ain't one."

 "I know things" he shrugged his shoulders, "I also know that no one dares to talk to Enjolras that way" he laughed, "You're still a brave one,  _Jondrette_. Just like back in Paris. Stupid, but brave."

 

 

The odds of something extraordinary happening that day were narrow; the ocean was wide, and ships went weeks without spotting others, let alone spotting hostile ships. But then again, Éponine's world seemed to work to her disadvantage, as well into the afternoon Bossuet shouted from the nest, "ship ahoy!" 

Éponine cursed at the heavens at her extraordinary bad luck.

Soon, the railings at the deck were busy with men staring into the distance, trying to catch a glimpse of the colors of the ship they were nearing to. It was still far away, but they were able to distinguish the flag of the king, which meant it was a ship loyal to the crown, and that meant it was time for Les Amis to strike.

By the time they were close enough to the ship, Éponine felt much better; she had eaten and walked around, and all that was left from the morning's illness was a slight headache which she could do nothing about. Maybe she was not ready to fight, but at least she was ready to defend herself if it came to it. Despite his annoyance at her, Enjolras needed all the hands he could use if they wanted to succeed, and so he put a sword on her hands, not before giving her a warning look to not screw up. She nodded to ease his worry and held onto the leathered handle with a firm grip, ready for what may come.

"All aboard!" Enjolras shouted, and so it began.

Before she knew it, Les Amis were boarding the other ship as the other men tried to fight them back. She walked the plank into the foreign ship and stayed with her back close to the rail to prevent any attacks from there. Her job was to watch their backs, and provide help if needed, but the royalists were crearly outnumbered. She watched Prouvarie clashing swords with an older man, while Bossuet had lost his weapon and was using his fists instead with another. She saw Courfeyrac and Feuilly cornering a man bigger than them, and then she saw Enjolras making his opponent fall onto his back and threatening him to lay his weapon down. Les Amis were winning, so Éponine wandered the deck cautiously looking for someone who needed her. And then she saw him.

Marius was losing his ground against a man who had him nearly cornered, and there was another running to the scene to help end it. Éponine found herself running towards them too. It was like that time she had run to save the Lark's life; she didn't know what pushed her, didn't know what she was doing. Éponine just noticed that she was running, and suddenly, she was blocking the man's attack with her own blade. He was stronger than her, and her hold didn't last but a few seconds, enough for Marius to notice and fight back harder. But not a minute had passed when she heard a loud thump against the floor and saw Marius grunting there. She cut his attacker at the back of his leg, making him fall and preventing him from finishing Marius off. But then she felt a blade agaisnt her own skin when, in her effort to protect Marius, she had got distracted from her own fight. Her attacker had slashed her just below the ribs, and she cried in pain as he threw his sword at her again, but this time she held him up. Éponine stood her ground as she held onto her wound, pressing hard against her side with her free hand. She didn't see it coming, never noticed he had it in him, but suddenly there was a dagger in the man's hand, and he buried it in her leg. She shouted at the unfamiliar new kind of pain. 

Éponine was able to slash him in the chest before someone knocked him over from behind. She fell to her knees, weakened by the pain that burned through her body. The next thing she knew, she was being carried back to Le Musain. 

 

 

Joly and Combeferre lay her down on a table as soon as they reached the sickbay. Éponine knew what would happen, but she couldn't worry about it while her leg was pulsing with pain where the dagger had previously been. The cut on her side was bleeding as well, and her shirt was soaking with blood. Éponine pressed her hand against the wound to try and stop the bleeding, and a muffled cry scaped her lips at the contact, but she still held firmly against it. Combeferre was giving her worrying looks as he helped Joly get the stuff he would need. Joly, on the other hand, wasn't worried, he was frantic as he ran around the room barking orders at the other man. 

"Let me look at that" he asked once he had gathered some pieces of cloth and a few bottles -of what, Éponine preferred not to know. 

She shook her head and bit her lip, she could feel droplets of sweat running down her forehead. "No, start with the leg, it hurts more."

"But we need to stop that bleeding" he insisted. 

Éponine still refused, "I've got this."

Joly seemed to hesitate, but he finally moved over to stand by her leg as he told Combeferre, "Grab a piece of cloth and press it against the wound." Combeferre nodded and Éponine closed her eyes at the pain the new contact produced. She had to tilt her head back to supress a shout as Joly cut her pants and started working on her leg, her hands now firmly holding onto the sides of the table.

It took just minutes for Joly to fix the wound on her leg, but every second had been agonizingly slow for Éponine. Combeferre had been kind enough to give her a sip of something that was definitely not rum, and just then, she was starting to feel its soothing effect. She was still in pain, but it felt like something far away now. She felt like if she tried to reach for her leg, she wouldn't find it there. Now another wound demanded her attention. 

Éponine grimaced when Combeferre stopped pressing at her side and she heard the sound of cloth being torn apart. It took her a moment to notice that the two men had stopped in their tracks, and were looking at each other with a mix of confusion and concern. She understood their halt when she glanced down at her body and noticed her shirt torn open, revealing the dirty bandages that had been concealing her breasts for weeks now. They knew.

Joly cleared his throat and focused on the wound again, "I'm going to need to remove these, the cut could get infected." 

It was all he explained, and Éponine nodded even though he had already began tearing her bandages apart. They didn't interrupt the silence after that. Éponine made her best effort not to cry in pain as Joly worked. It took him less time than her leg, but the tension in the room made it feel like hours had passed once Joly placed a bandage over the wound, and Combeferre placed a mostly clean blanket to cover her. 

Éponine grabbed strongly at the blanket and held back tears as the men slipped out of the room without a word.

 

When she had first been dragged to Le Musain, Éponine had been afraid to be a woman. It was a reasonable fear, for men were dangerous, even more so when they were pirates. As the days passed, she noticed that these men were not like the pirates she had encountered before; they were kind men, good men, but still she couldn't risk it. They treated Cosette with respect because she was a respectable woman, a lady worth saving -and in Marius' case, a woman worth falling in love with. Cosette had been granted since the very first moment the approval of the crew and their captain, for she was just a victim of the circumstances. Éponine, on the other hand, was -according to their captain- scum just like Patron-Minette. She wasn't respectable, she wasn't a lady, she wasn't worth saving. Éponine was someone that nobody cared for, just another homeless woman who no one would mourn. Why wouldn't the members of this crew take advantage of someone so unimportant? she had reasoned. 

But that fear was long gone. She had made a place for herself among these men, saw them as friends and surely they would reciprocate the feeling to some extent. She didn't fear to be treated badly anymore; her fear now was to disappoint them, since she had betrayed their trust and pretended to be something she wasn't. What Éponine feared, now that they knew her secret, was their rejection. She never meant for them to find out; she was supposed to disappear from their lives once in Paris. But now she would have to see the disappointment in their eyes, their feeling of betrayal. She felt shame, and she hated herself for daring to get attached so rapidly.

 

Éponine could hear voices outside the door just a few minutes after Joly and Combeferre left. 

"... something you should know before going in there", she guessed it was Combeferre, but she couldn't really tell. 

"I don't care if he's dying in there, he's going to hear what I have to say right now!" someone shouted.

"Enjolras, wait!" it was Joly this time, but Enjolras had already stormed into the room and was glaring in the direction of the girl lying on the table. Her cheeks were damp with tears, and her head felt dizzy from the liquor, but Enjolras didn't seem to mind any of that.

"I knew this would happen, you halfwitted boy!" he started, taking no pity on her current state, "You almost got Marius killed for your imbecility today! You useless scum, did you have to go and..."

"Enjolras stop!" Combeferre shouted when he reached his friend. He stood between them and forced the man to take a step back.

"What, are you going to defend him now? Do you know what he did out there!?"

"No, Enjolras, I don't know what happened out there, but something happened in here and you need to calm down and listen!" The room fell silent and Éponine saw the frown of confusion on Enjolras' face, although the anger was still noticeable on the way his fists were tightly closed at his sides.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. 

Combeferre sighed as he placed a hand to Enjolras' shoulder. "She needs to rest."

"Who?" Enjolras was irritated, and confused, and once he heard Combeferre's next words, he was also speechless. 

"Jondrette," he paused, letting his words sink in. "He's a woman... well,  _she_ is a woman. She got us all fooled", the man explained as he pointed back to the girl at the table, who was unable to do anything but look at them with defiant eyes, daring them to begin the questioning that would come sooner or later.

But they stood in silence there, until they didn't anymore. And for the first time since Éponine had met him, Enjolras left the room without the pleasure of uttering the last word.

 

 


	4. Éponine

Éponine opened her eyes slowly, as the last remnants of drowsiness slipped away from her body. She felt exhausted despite the many hours she had laid there. She knew it had been many hours judging by the state of the candles and the muffled sound of the hustle and bustle from outside the door. It should be morning already, and Éponine started to sit up until she felt a sharp pain coming from her ribs. She hissed at the feeling and laid back down, realising that any movement would be a difficult task that day.

"Don't try that again" she heard a voice coming from the door, which made her jump in surprise and receive a new wave of pain. "Just rest."

Éponine searched the room and found Enjolras sitting in a chair by the door, as far as possible from the place where she laid. She wasn't able to make out his face, which was hidden in shadows, but Éponine could picture in her mind the scowl he was most likely directing at her. She decided to focus her gaze on the ceiling and not make a sound, hoping that maybe, he would just leave eventually. But when a few minutes of silence passed, Éponine heard the floor creaking under his steps as he approached the table. Deep inside, Éponine felt actually relieved that it was him. At least she wouldn't have to confront any of her friends yet. All she would get from Enjolras was anger and more insults, but not dissapointment; she would be able to avoid that for a little longer. 

He stood by the side of the table in silence, the tension in the air so awkward that Éponine couldn't ignore him anymore. She looked at him and saw something in his expression which she wasn't expecting. He looked worried, and she would dare to say that she even saw a glimpse of guilt or remorse somewhere in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, "Is everyone alright? Is Marius...?"  _dead_ , she would have finished, but he shook his head before she could.

"Everbody is fine, you were the only injured yesterday."

"Oh" Éponine replied, confused now that she couldn't decipher the reason of his somber expression. "Then I guess you're here to yell at me some more."

"I'm here to apologize" Enjolras said firmly, "Marius explained to me what happened; that you actually saved him and not the other way around" he explained, his voice for the first time didn't make it sound like a grand speech. He sounded like any man would, and Éponine felt angry that he would suddenly treat her like this now.

"Don't do that" she said, and Enjolras seemed confused at her words. "Don't go soft on me now, captain" she mocked, "I didn't turn a woman overnight, I have been a woman all along. I can handle your insults and your anger, so don't you take pity on me now. I'm not weaker than I was yesterday, I can take it. You were angry at me, so be angry."

He remained silent, pondering her words, looking at her like there was something he couldn't understand. Éponine felt it strange to feel anything but little under his gaze; it was the sensation her mind had come to associate with Enjolras. That, and irritation. But right now he was making her feel like something alien, a weirdly shaped piece of a puzzle that he couldn't find a place for.

"I was angry, yes, but I was also wrong, that's why I apologize. It's not pity, it's the way I would treat every other person on this ship." He didn't seem apologetic, just sincere. Éponine couldn't help but chuckle.

"You have never treated me like every other person on this ship, Enjolras. I am scum, remember? Why would that suddenly change?"

"It hasn't changed" he said, squaring his shoulders, and Éponine couldn't decide if she should feel relieved or insulted about it. "I cannot trust you, that still remains. However, I feel responsible."

"For what? Being harder on me than on anyone else? I already told you, I can tak..."

"No, not for that" he cut her irritated. Éponine stayed silent as he took a deep breath in an attempt, she guessed, to calm himself. "I... Why did you hide it?"

"What?" Éponine asked, thoroughly confused this time. "I think it's very clear why. I'm a woman trapped in a ship with sixteen men. Pirates. I don't think I need to explain to you what could've happened. It was safer being a man."

Enjolras nodded, his jaw was tight but his eyes were still soft on her. She hated that he was looking at her like that. "That's why I feel responsible. Because you would think it safer to be somebody else; because you would prefer to lie, instead of trusting us." He shook his head in disbelief, "I think I failed at the very thing that I fight for. That we all fight for. We try to change the world so no one has to suffer, or live in fear." He paused and scanned the sickbay, almost as if he couldn't look her in the eyes. "And all this time, there was someone living in fear right in front of my eyes, but I couldn't see it. I was blinded by my own distrust." Enjolras looked at her again, and this time Éponine felt like he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. "There was something off about you, about the way you were always looking over your shoulder, and I thought it was because you were waiting for the right moment to turn on us. I could have never imagined that the reason for that was quite the contrarie; you were afraid someone would discover this, and we would turn on you."

Éponine was left speechless. She couldn't believe that the man in front her had uttered such words, and that they were intended for her. He had sounded honest, true, but still she couldn't grasp the meaning of his words. She was unfamiliar with the feeling of empathy, and it tasted strange in her mouth; a nice kind of strange.

"I'm sorry for that" Enjolras continued. He cleared his throat, as if he was actually emotional and the feelings were making it difficult for him to speak. Éponine wouldn't have thought in a million years that the statuesque and stern captain was capable of such a human thing. "I would like you to know that you will be safe here" he went on, "I still cannot trust you for your relation with Patron-Minette, but I hope you know now that you can trust us."

Éponine nodded. She supposed she should say something, but she was overwhelmed by the unexpected path their conversation had taken. "I appreciate that" was all she could think of. Enjolras looked like he wanted to say something more, like he wanted her to say something else, but he just nodded, and that was the end of it.

He turned around and left the room, and Éponine felt that despite her wounds and the aches on her body, she felt much better than when she had woken up.

 

 

Éponine had fallen asleep again. She knew because Cosette was calling to her, and she opened her eyes obediently. She blinked a few times until her eyes found the other girl at her side, and Éponine wondered if there was ever a situation in which Cosette didn't smile kindly. At L'ombre, Éponine reminded herself. Cosette had ran out of smiles while she was on that ship.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. Éponined sighed, "Tired. How can I still be tired? How long have I slept?"

"A long time, around thirteen hours. Everybody has eaten already, and they gave me that for you" she explained, pointing to a tarnished tray waiting for her on the chair.

"Why you?" Éponine questioned. Were they so mad they didn't even want to see her? "Why couldn't they bring it?"

Cosette smiled knowingly, and pointed to the feet of Éponine's temporary bed, "because they also gave me those for you to change into. Joly's orders. He says the ones you're wearing are too dirty, it could get you an infection." Éponine looked at the clothes piled at her feet with concern. She hadn't expected that they would let her die or anything of the sort, but she hadn't expected for them to worry about her either. But it didn't mean anything. Joly was a doctor; it was his job to take care of everyone. "Don't look so worried Éponine, they're pants. There aren't any dresses around here. I think I'll have to ask for a pair too if we don't reach land soon, my clothes are starting to smell."

"You wearing pants?" Éponine smiled, "Marius will surely have a heart attack."

Cosette's face turned red, but the girl didn't say another thing about it, just let it go. She helped Éponine sit up, and although the latter was in pain, she felt relieved to be able to move again, even if it cost her more than a few winces. Cosette took off the rest of her tattered shirt and pants, and with a wet cloth, she cleaned the blood and dirt from Éponine's skin. Then she helped her get dressed into some pants that were clearly too big, and a white shirt to match. Éponine had to roll up the sleeves just to be able to use her hands. Then, with a bit of rope they found lying around, she secured the pants around her waist, high enough that it wouldn't brush against the wound on her side. She was forbidden to bind her chest on Joly's orders, but even so it was difficult to tell there was a girl under those clothes.

"Thank you, Cosette" Éponine said once they were done, "no one has taken care of me like this since I was a child."

"It's not a worry" Cosette replied with a smile, "And in a way, I should thank you too, for saving Marius." Éponine was surprised by the girl's frankness when she had previously been so shy around the topic. "I've grown fond of him, I can't picture now a day in which he's not present."

"I'm glad for you" Éponine said, sincerely happy for the girl. Cosette collected the torn clothes lying on the floor and made her way to the door, but before she was out, she turned around and said to Éponine: "They will take care of you, you know? If you just let them."

Cosette smiled and didn't wait for a response, she left the room and, suddenly, everything was quiet again.

 

 

It was night when Grantaire entered the sickbay. Éponine was reading one of Marius' books but she set it aside as soon as the door creaked open.

"So, news are you go by Éponine now" he said nonchalantly as he sat in the chair by the table where she rested. Éponine frowned.

"How do you...?"

"Gavroche told us, although I didn't want to believe it" he answered before she could finish, "your parents had an awful taste for names."

Éponine chuckled, and although her side hurt for a moment, she didn't mind it. Once he was sure she was alright, Grantaire continued.

"He also mentioned that he's your brother. But that, I can believe. You're both very good liars."

Éponine looked him in the eye, not quite ready to face the dissapoinment she would find there, but decided to not run away from it either. However, there was no judgement in Grantaire's expression, only... fondness?

"I'm sorry, Grantaire. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

The man reached for her hand and held it tightly. "I'm glad it was. I like to know my friends."

Éponine smiled at him, and something in her chest felt different, like she had been relieved of a huge burden and she could finally breathe at ease.

"Are you not angry then?" she questioned, looking at their entwined hands.

"I was... surprised" he said, "First I heard you were hurt and I was afraid you would die; we all were. Then, Combeferre told us that you were fine, but that you weren't really a man... it was strange to think about it. But in the midst of it all, I was mostly relieved that you wouldn't die, so much that I didn't give much thought to whatever was between your legs." Éponine would have blushed at such bluntness if she wasn't already used to Grantaire. He, on the other hand, seemed to think about it as he smiled at her, "God, how many inappropriate things we must've said to you in these days!"

"Not enough to scare me off" Éponine reassured him. "And what about the others? Don't they hate me neither?"

"Not at all. You should give everybody a few days to get used to it, though. But they understand, specially after Enjolras made them understand."

"He really did that?"

"Yes, I can't believe he was speaking up for you either" he joked, "Please, do tell me how you got him to do that. He's not so fond of me either, I could use a little help getting in his good graces."

Éponine squeezed his hand a little bit tighter and laughed. Grantaire just nodded in response, as he went on and told her about the reactions among the crew. They sat there talking and forgot about the world. And for the first time in a long while, Éponine felt like she was in a place she could dare to call home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, hope you like this so far!  
> I just wanted to let you know that I'll be posting two chapters a day from now on. I don't see the point in waiting when the story is already complete and sitting there, waiting.   
> If you leave kudos or comments, I'll greatly appreciate it. Thanks for reading!


	5. Safe Harbor

One week after the boarding of the royalist ship, Le Musain reached French harbor.

Éponine had mostly recovered from her wounds. They were healing well and fast under Joly's supervision, and although her leg hurt at any movement, she had become used to it, to the point that the feeling seemed less painful day after day. 

Things at Le Musain hadn't been as different as she feared. At first, there was a strange kind of tension in the air, but it was due mostly to people not knowing what to say or how to behave around her. As the days had gone by, the men had returned to their usual behaviour and even mocked her now for being such a believable man. Éponine felt right among those men, she felt like they had welcomed her for a second time, and the thought of leaving them behind made her stomach twist. More than ever, she felt like she belonged somewhere, like she was  _wanted_ somewhere; and so she gathered the courage, and decided to claim her place within the crew.

She knocked on Enjolras' door, but just like everybody else, she didn't wait for a response and opened it to find the man writing something in a book. "May I have a word?" Éponine asked when he looked up. Enjolras nodded and invited her to sit down.

"What is it?"

"I..." 

Éponine didn't know how to talk to Enjolras. After his approach when she had been recovering, they hadn't exchanged another word, and the man was still a mistery to her. She knew that Joly was better to talk to after lunch; that Prouvaire could be contented with a praise to his hair; that Bahorel shouldn't be bothered when he had just woken up; that Grantaire preferred it when she was straight forward... Enjolras, on the other hand, was uncharted territory. All she knew about him was that he didn't trust her, and that made what she was about to ask ten times more difficult to utter. 

"I would like to ask you something."

"If you need a favour you could ask somebody else," he replied annoyed, getting back to his writing, "I'm a little busy here."

Éponine frowned and took a deep breath. She couldn't start arguing before she made her case, it would do her no good. "It's actually not a favour I need. It's a permission."

"Almost three weeks on this ship and you start asking for permissions now? Why?"

"Stop writing and just listen!" she said, a little bit too harshly. That got her his attention. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to talk. "I request your permission to stay on Le Musain."

Enjolras looked surprised. "I don't think that will be possible, Jondrette. This is a ship, not an inn."

"But I can work if you just let me! The rest of the crew has accepted me, why won't you?"

"You haven't given me any reason to" he said without even blinking.

"What?" she couldn't help but raise her voice. "I fought on that boarding, I haven't tried to kill anyone like you thought I would, and I've taken a knife to the leg while defending a member of the crew! What any other reason could you possibly need to take me in?"

"It doesn't work like that." Enjolras shook his head, "I appreciate what you've done here, but it has to end. This ship is dangerous, the king has a price on our heads, the navy has been trying to catch us for months... this is not a game. It's a serious cause and we can only accept those who believe in it." He stood up and went for the door, "Go have a life, this is not the place for you."

"You don't get to decide where my place is" she said, standing up to face him. "Go have a life, you say, but what do you know? Have you ever lived on the street? Have you ever been hungry, or cold? That is what life looks like for me."

"I know how the people suffer, that is what we are trying to change here!"

Éponine snorted, "Just not for me, isn't it?" She shook her head in disbelief and paced the room. Enjolras stood by the door but didn't say a word. When she felt calmer, she looked at him and he seemed deep in thought. She was getting to him; if she had any chance at convincing him, this was it. 

"I know this is all because you don't trust me, Enjolras" she started, and that got his attention; he was back in the room, and he was listening. "I understand. I do. But if you throw me out you will condemn me." She stepped closer, her voice so low, she wondered if he could hear at all. But if she raised her voice it would tremble, and she didn't want to cry, not for pity, not in front of him. "Do you want to know why I was with Patron-Minette? It was either that or the street. And the choice in the street is between starving or selling yourself. Do you know how much a tooth is worth? I do. Do you know how much a whore is paid? Not enough. I chose Patron-Minette over the street, over selling myself. Judge me for it, if you want. I understand it when you say you cannot trust me, but you can help me. You say you fight for the poor, well, I'm poor. I'm what you're fighting for. But I don't want you to fight for me. I want to fight for myself, here, with the rest of you."

Enjolras stayed silent for an eternity. He was staring at her, looking for the truth in her eyes, considering everything she had just said. Éponine felt she had said too much, but it was done now. A few minutes ago it was Grantaire that knew her better on that ship -apart from Gavroche-, but not even to him had she opened up this way. She felt exposed under his gaze but she bore it, and bore it, and then he seemed to wake up to reality and squared his shoulders.

"You are right. I can't make you leave," he started, clearing his throat as if to gather strength. "If I do, I will become part of the problem. But whether you stay or not doesn't depend on me. I told you I'm not their captain, and I meant it. The crew will decide if you should stay."

Éponine nodded, still unsure of her fate, but at least confident that she had a chance. "Thank you, for listening."

"Thank you for making me" he said, his eyes still analysing hers, making her feel seen, as if her soul was out in the open and he happened to be admiring it. "You are something else, Jondrette. We will need more of that stubborness on our fight."

 

 

A vote was held later in the day. Éponine heard mostly "ayes". Not everyone wanted her there, but enough of them did. And that was good enough for her; she wouldn't be alone anymore.

 

 

Le Sables-d'Olonne was a small town in the Bay of Biscay, near Nantes. As Marius had told her, it was one of the few harbors in which Les Amis could stay without raising anyone's suspicions. They had allies in that town, republicans just like them, that helped them smuggle the goods stolen from the royalists into the country. Once there, these goods were either traded or sold in exchange for things the poor ones needed, from food, to clothes, to animals and seeds for the farming. Their allies in those ports also provided the men with supplies for their next journey and helped them fill up the hold. Getting all of these things done took time, so it would be a few days until they went back to the sea.

Le Musain's deck was busy on the first day, with everyone running here and there, unloading cargo or getting ready to travel. Most of Les Amis used these occasions to relax at the current town for a few days, but some of them didn't, since they needed to travel either to visit their families or to hear the latest news from Paris. 

 

It was in the afternoon when she bid farewell to Cosette. The Lark would be going back home to her father, as Les Amis had promised. Her kidnapping nightmare had finally come to an end, but the girl showed no sign of joy; on the contrary, she seemed saddened to be leaving them all behind.

"Are you not happy to be going back home?" Éponine asked when she noticed Cosette's somber expression.

"Of course I am" she smiled, or at least tried to. For a girl who lived with a grin on her lips, she could only manage a lousy impression of one right then. "I can't wait to see my papa, but..."

"But you will miss Marius" Éponine guessed. 

"I wish things were different and he would stay with me" she admitted, "I wish they all could go back to Paris, and live in peace."

"Maybe one day they will, if their revolution becomes a reality and the people rises to fight."

"Not if. When." Cosette said, and her face lit up at the idea. "Are you sure you want to stay?" she asked Éponine. "You could come back with me, live in our house. Papa will be no problem, I assure you. He would take you in."

Éponine smiled gratefully, but shook her head. "I'm sure. Thank you anyway." 

It was too good, her offer. Too good to turn out fine. Miracles didn't exist for Éponine, she couldn't just sit on a sofa in a nice salon waiting for social visits. If she ever came to have that -which she doubted- she would earn it for herself. 

"Come on, it's time. They are waiting for you," she said when she noticed the men were ready to part. Marius would accompany her all the way back to Paris, of course. Combeferre and Gavroche would join them to see how things were in the city and bring back news. 

Cosette threw her arms around Éponine and the girl smirked in surprise. "Take care of yourself, Éponine. And take care of them too; you'll be good for them." Éponine hugged her tightly and then let her go. 

"Farewell, Cosette. I hope we will see each other again soon."

"We will" the girl said. And with tears threatening her eyes, Cosette left Le Musain for good.

 

 

On their second day at Le Sables-d'Olonne, Éponine joined Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Prouvarie on their afternoon stroll around the town. The streets were narrow, busy with people, and it was a nice change from the nearly deserted deck of their ship. 

"Had you ever been here, Éponine?" Prouvarie asked as he inspected a piece of fruit from a stall. 

"I have never been anywhere apart from Paris," she answered. It wasn't a complete lie. She had been to a few ports during her time with Patron-Minette but they never stayed long, and she never had time to wander the towns like this. "Well, I lived as a child at Montfermeil, but I barely remember it."

"That's a pity, that you have only been to a few places. I love visiting new towns, it's what makes all that time on the sea bearable." He paid for the fruit and took a bite as they kept walking.

"I thought you loved the sea" Éponine said, trying not to lose sight of Grantaire and Courfeyrac ahead of them. "You write about it so often."

"I do, but I wish we could just stay at land for as long as we wanted. The sea inspires me, but that doesn't change the fact that it has become a kind of prison for us all."

"I hadn't thought about it that way" she admitted, only now realising how the merriest of their group felt about their situation. "I guess I missed it. With all your talk about revolution and equality, and how pleased and passionate you all are with the cause. I keep forgetting that you are fugitives too."

Prouvarie laughed, and although Éponine noticed it wasn't a joyful laughter, she could still find traces of joy in it. That was the usual feeling Prouvarie irradiated: joy. She wasn't surprised at all that even on such upsetting matters, he could keep that feeling around himself, as if happiness was the way he lived, and there was no threat that could take it away from him.

"Yes, we are dedicated to the cause, and I can't think of a day in which we won't be. But you can't feed on one thing during your whole life. We need other things from life as well, things which are hard to come by being fugitives."

"Such as?" Éponine asked.

"Culture" he said, opening his arms as if referring to everything that surrounded them. "The simplicity of social meetings, the warmth of a family, the love of a companion... We are missing out on those things and more, that's why I crave the times when we reach land. Don't mistake me, I love the sea and what we are doing, but these rare times at safe harbor are what really help us go on."

Éponine nodded understanding, but before she had a chance to reply, Courfeyrac was calling to them.

"What is it?" Prouvaire asked when they reached the other men, who had been waiting for them in front of a clothing shop.

"We think it's time for 'Ponine to have some garments her own size" Grantaire said with a grin. "She looks ridiculous in those, and it's honestly embarrasing to walk beside her."

Courfeyrac laughed, but Éponine couldn't be bothered, as used as she was to the teasing ways of her friends. "But I haven't got anything to pay for them" she explained. 

"There's no need to worry about that" Courfeyrac said, as he pointed to the shop, "the people who own this place have always been friendly to us. They provide clothes and fix our sails when we need it. It's their own way of contributing to the cause."

 

 

Éponine gladly welcomed the change of clothing. The enormous pants that had dressed her during the last days had been difficult to manage, as they were either tied too tightly to the point it hurt her ribs, or not tight enough, threatening to fall down at any move. They were replaced by better fitting black pants, apparently intended for boys younger than her. Her previous shirt was discarded as well in favour of another whose sleeves didn't stand on her way, and on top of it, they also provided her with a bottle green vest to help keep up her boyish façade. Éponine was fiddling with the strings on said vest as she tried to ignore the filtration of her friends towards the people at the inn. 

They had been drinking for a few hours then, and it was already past midnight. Éponine felt a little out of place in the midst of so much coquetry and fondling, and was relieved that nobody had approached or attempted anything with her. She thanked the heavens that she still looked like a boy; but even if she hadn't, still she wasn't beautiful enough -although people usually didn't care about such things when they were drunk. And at that moment, there wasn't a single sober soul in that inn. Not even him. 

Éponine had been shocked to find Enjolras among the crew with a cup in his hand, as if there wasn't a care in the world. It was the first time she had seen him behave like the rest of them, let his guard down and enjoy something. And it was like discovering a brand new side of Enjolras. He had a smile on his lips, his hair was a golden mess and his shirt was partly undone over his chest. It was like a carefree version of their leader, one she had never imagined existed. One that -like herself-, didn't seem comfortable around their flirtatious friends. Éponine grabbed her cup and crossed the room to sit in front of him. She tried to ignore Courfeyrac by her side, whose hand was lost under some lady's skirt. 

"So you are capable of having fun" Éponine teased him. Enjolras rolled his eyes at her, faking annoyance.

"I think our concepts of fun differ" he replied taking a sip from his cup, "but if you mean I am capable of getting drunk and watching my friends make fools of themselves, yes, I am capable of that." Éponine laughed at his comment, and noticed he even sounded different with a little rum in his veins. "Will you be capable of not throwing up this time?"

"I'll try my best" she smirked, and then she noticed one more thing about him: there was a glimmer in his blue eyes, and it made them... warmer. Éponine cleared her throat when he caught her staring. "Won't you be making a fool of yourself tonight too, captain?"

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" he answered, conveniently ignoring her question. Éponine shrugged. 

"I think our concepts of what a captain is differ" she mocked him, and he just shook his head with a smile on his lips. 

"You are bold, Jondrette. It's annoying most of the time, but I'm growing fond of it." 

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" she quoted him once more, this time with a frown. "Jondrette was a cover. You know my real name."

"Because I'm a civil person who has manners" Enjolras replied, the smile slowly fading from his lips. "Besides, I thought Jondrette was your real last name." He looked at her suspiciously now, and Éponine could foresee the inevitable bickering that the topic would lead to. She gulped her drink down in one sip, as if the rum would give her strength to contain her tongue later.

"It isn't my real name."

"What is it then?" he insisted, but it wasn't a friendly chatter anymore; this was an interrogation on all accounts.

"You don't want to know" she answered, and it was the best he would get from her. She couldn't just admit she was a Thénardier. Her father didn't hold the best reputation and it wouldn't make her stay on their ship any easier if they thought they lived with the daughter of a known criminal. Enjolras didn't need another reason to distrust her.

"It would greatly please me to know" he corrected her, and Éponine rolled her eyes as she got up from the table and made her way to where she had previously been, this time with her back intently towards Enjolras. 

The table was empty now and she poured herself another cup of rum. Maybe she would be throwing up again, after all.

"And you still wonder why I don't trust you?" Enjolras questioned as he sat beside her, taking her by surprise. "Why won't you say who you are? What are you afraid of?"

Éponine turned to face him, and she saw that Enjolras the captain was back. His physical appearance was the same, but his posture and look had changed, hardened. 

"I'm afraid that I'm a fool" she replied annoyed, "I thought we could have a relaxed conversation and maybe even enjoy it, but no, you insist on making things difficult. Why can't you just let it go?"

"And why can't you just be honest? We barely know anything about you. I demand to know the truth." 

Éponine laughed at that, "You cannot demand anything from me, you're not my captain. Or have your concepts suddenly changed?" Enjolras stared at her with lips pursed and fists closed tightly, but he said nothing, so she continued: "You say you barely know me, but the crew knows me very well. Actually,  you know more about me than any of them! I trusted you with a story that no one else knows, and still all I receive are demands for the one secret I would like to keep."

She turned her gaze away to avoid any more of his intruding stares. Éponine felt analysed whenever their eyes locked; she wished for him to just disappear, banish into thin air so she'd never have to face him again. But then his hand found hers on top of the table, and Éponine opened her mouth, but was stopped before she could begin to protest.

"I didn't know I was the only one who knew" Enjolras said, and she forced herself to meet his eyes once more. The interrogation was over, the captain was gone. The new Enjolras she had discovered that night was sitting beside her now, and Éponine wondered if maybe they were two different people who had switched places while she wasn't looking. How was it possible for one person to change moods at such speed? 

"I didn't feel the need to trust it to anyone else." She explained, "It's not the kind of story people like to hear."

"I suppose it's not" he said, with a brief smile of understanding. "I'm glad you chose to tell me. I thought you didn't trust me either." 

"You said I could" she simply replied, shrugging her shoulders. She looked down at his hand grabbing hers and smiled. "And you seem to be growing fond of me" she nodded towards their hands. Enjolras retired his hand swiftly, alarmed, as if he hadn't noticed he had placed it there in the first place. Éponine laughed.

"Sorry" he murmured, unable now to look at her face.

"Are you blushing?" she teased, but his ears became suddenly red and Éponine couldn't hold her tongue. "I can't believe that of all things, you would be afraid of some innocent flirting." 

Enjolras looked at her from the corner of his eye, "I'm not afraid, I just don't think it was appropriate" he defended himself, but Éponine was smiling again, knowing it was just an excuse.

"Oh, please. Take a look around! There isn't a single thing that is appropriate about this place." She took a sip from her cup and looked at him teasingly, "I knew it was strange that you were all alone back there. You're shy, that's unacceptable!"

"Why would it be?"

"Because a handsome young man like you shouldn't waste his nights at land arguing with me" she explained, but he looked even more blushed and confused. Éponine sighed, "we need to find you a companion, what about that one? The blonde one?"

And so their conversation drifted towards reviewing the women at the inn. And then the men. Somehow, Enjolras found flaws in all of them. Éponine was relieved, because if he finally settled on one, she would be left on her own again. Besides, she liked this new Enjolras, she would like to enjoy his company for just a little longer, before they had to go back to the sea and the illusion disappeared.

 

 


	6. Bad Omens

It was on their fifth day at French harbor that Les Amis found new members for the crew. 

During the past days, they had enjoyed the advantages of being at land and the crew was on the best mood Éponine had ever seen them. In spite of this, during the past days, they had also been working, holding small meetings with the town's supporters, planning on different ways to spread their fight to the rest of the country, and recruiting new members to join them at sea. 

Although Enjolras and Prouvaire had given people hope with their speeches, it was Courfeyrac who had been responsible of their joining the cause. It was one thing to stir the people, to make them see, to inspire them with the grand ideas Les Amis were fighting for; but it was another to get them to actually fight. Courfeyrac was better suited for that task; he had a way of luring people that neither Enjolras' passion nor Prouvaire's words could convey. And yet, there was so much even Courf could manage. Most of the people stopped listening as soon as the rumor spread that there would be a woman among the crew.

"Do you think it would be best if I didn't go?" she asked Courfeyrac, right after she'd witnessed a few strong men claim their journeys would be cursed with her aboard.

"No," he replied, shaking his head and sipping wine. "It would be best if they could just see past your cunt." He looked defeated, as if the man wasn't used to rejection. He probably wasn't. Courfeyrac's charming words could get even the king of France to join their fight if he tried hard enough. But right now, they couldn't get to anyone due to -as he had put it- her cunt. "Forgive me, that was rude" he apologised, "it's hard to remember to be a gentleman around you."

Éponine chuckled, "You aren't a gentleman Courf, and I'm no lady. Besides, you're right."

"Yes, I usually am right" he said proudly, "but what I meant to say is... you're not just some woman. You are one of us now, Éponine. And they should be able to understand that, whatever there is under your clothes."

Éponine nodded, a sincere smile on her lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as the inn kept its usual flow of people going and coming. Éponine finished her drink and noticed Courfeyrac staring. "What?" she asked.

"How come I'm not a gentleman?" 

Éponine just laughed and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling cheeky. 

"I've seen those hands under too many skirts for them to belong to a gentleman" she joked. Courfeyrac faked shock.

"My hands were perfectly courteous under those skirts, dare I say. Ladies nowadays have such strange needs, and I am only at their service."

"Oh," Éponine laughed, "my mistake, I guess."

Courfeyrac grinned and sipped more of his wine, "you are excused." Then, looking at her intently, he said "I haven't noticed any gentleman, ehr... taking care of your needs."

"Courfeyrac!" she admonished. Éponine reddened but didn't look away; she kept her amused eyes on her friend, torn between the urge to laugh it off, and the embarrassment taking form in the back of her mind.  She was used to this kind of conversations between her friends and wasn't uncomfortable to be surrounded by them, or even participate. But she had never been the subject of such debates herself. And the man seemed to enjoy her discomfort, since he just laughed at her reaction.

"What? Can't I worry about your well-being?" He questioned nonchalantly. "A young woman such as you surely has some cravings only a  _gentleman_  can satisfy" Éponine shook her head in disbelief. "I trust that our fearless chief wouldn't mind being that gentleman."

"Why would you say that?" she asked, both embarrased and confused. 

Courfeyrac shrugged his shoulders as he said "He has never as much as thrown a second glance in the direction of a female, and yet, he stares too much in your direction," then, with a wicked smile, "or maybe it's just his poor sight."

"You are ridiculous" Éponine sentenced, "but do allow me to let you know: I have no need for any man to take care of my... needs."

Courfeyrac laughed, and although she knew it was just a joke, Éponine found herself unable to take the image out of her mind. For a moment, she had pictured Enjolras sitting right where Courfeyrac was; she sitting on his lap, her arm around his neck, his hand slithering up her leg to caress the skin high above her knee... Éponine felt ashamed at that thought, how inappropriate and impossible it was; how much she craved it anyway.

"What about a lady, then?" Courfeyrac asked. But their conversation was abruptly ended when some men approached their table to ask about the cause. It was a long conversation, and it wasn't the last one. 

They left the inn late in the afternoon, after many debates and many faces. They hadn't been able to convince most of them, but the sense of victory was in their bones as they made their way to the ship. That day, the crew of Le Musain grew with the addition of three new members. 

 

 

It was already night when Marius, Combeferre and Gavroche finally returned from Paris. Éponine was half asleep but she was awoken by her brother, who shook her hammock carelessly as he called to her: "Éponine! Fresh news from Paris!" and he tossed a letter over her stomach.

"Couldn't it wait until morning?" she asked, squinting her eyes to try and see Gavroche in the dim room. She saw him shake his head franctically, and even in the dark, she caught a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

"There's more news on deck."

"What is it?" 

"Come and see" he said playfully, as he turned around and left. 

Éponine took the letter he had tossed at her and jumped from her resting place. Once she was out in the stairs and there was enough light, she took a look at the paper in her hands. It was a concealed envelope, no name but her own written in polished letters. She frowned and wondered what could be inside, and was actually surprised that Gavroche hadn't taken the liberty of opening the letter for her. He must have received a good pay for it. Laughter could be heard from the deck, so Éponine tucked the envelope in her pants as she made her way upstairs.

She didn't notice at first what the matter was. Everything seemed normal as she looked around and saw surprised and smiling faces. She even overlooked the blonde mane a few meters from her. And then she remembered: Cosette wasn't supposed to be there. She almost ran to where the other girl was standing, surrounded by her friends.

"Cosette! What are you doing here?" she asked concerned, "Did something happen in Paris?"

Cosette's eyes were bright as she replied: "Everything is alright in Paris, Éponine. I have come to join you all!"

"What?" was all she could say as the blonde approached and closed her arms around her. 

"I couldn't stand to be apart from him" Cosette whispered in her ear, and then looked at her with blushed cheeks, her eyes wandering their surroundings to make sure no one else had heard. Éponine smiled happily at Cosette's confession. She noticed Marius staring delighted when Combeferre spoke. 

"We tried to change her mind but it was no use," he explained, "she wants to join the fight."

"I'm happy to hear that" Éponine said sincerely, "but what about your dad?"

Cosette's bright eyes dimmed for a moment, although her smile remained. "He wasn't happy about it. But he accepted it when I explained." Cosette looked at her intently, and Éponine knew she wasn't talking about the revolution as the rest of the crew assumed. She had told her father she loved a man and he had let her go. Éponine felt once again jealousy towards the girl, this time not for the love story she was already a part of, but for the fatherly love Éponine herself would never know.

"But what about your reputation? Surely the people will hear."

"I'd rather this way of life over a respectable and miserable one away from my friends." Cosette replied, and they all nodded in understanding. It was, after all, the same choice they had all made at some point. Long before the sea, long before Éponine even knew about them.

The excitement over Cosette's return kept them awake all night, until dawn caught them sneaking away to their hammocs to try and get some rest. 

 

 

On the sixth day, Le Musain finally departed from Les Sables-d'Olonne.

They had held a last minute voting that day, to determine whether Cosette could join their journey or if she was to remain at land. Éponine had been taken aback by the many negatives the girl received, including that of Enjolras, but they weren't enough to leave her out. Once they were far enough from land, she caught sight of their leader heading for the hold, and she decided to question him about it. Éponine followed him down the stairs and into the newly loaded hold.

"Need some help with that?" she asked when she saw him rolling a barrel that looked heavy. 

"Sure" he replied, making room for her to join at his side and help him push. Once they had moved a few more barrels, Éponine said: "You voted against Cosette staying." His mouth fell instantly into a thin line as he looked at her seriously. "Why?"

"Because she doesn't belong here. It's selfish of her to stay." He began to roll another barrel and Éponine helped him as he continued: "If it was on my hand, I would have sent her back to Paris."

"You wanted to send me back too" Éponine replied, her voice high-pitched with the effort, "and then you understood why I wanted to stay."

They rolled the barrel and placed it among the others, but Enjolras didn't go to fetch one more; he stood there looking at Éponine with his hands on his hips, his chest rising and falling swiftly with the effort. "I understand why she wants to stay, and it's not the same" he began, and Éponine noticed he was slightly more serious, as if he didn't like being questioned about his decisions. "You stayed for yourself. Cosette is staying for Marius. It's selfish and stupid. I'd rather he had stayed at land if they wanted to be together."

"She will be useful" Éponine replied, trying to convince herself as much as him. "She can be." 

Enjolras didn't seem to even consider that possibility. The man was unable to see Cosette's potential because for him, she was just a lady going on a dangerous adventure. Éponine wished she could find the words that would convince him of the opposite, but nothing she came up with was satisfying enough. 

"If you just knew her... there's more to her than what you see."

"There's more to everyone than what we see" he agreed, looking at her intently, and Éponine felt like she was being inspected. It was a recurring feeling whenever he was around; she felt under someone's careful examination, and she hated that feeling.

"I will teach her to fight. That way she'll be able to defend herself."

"You don't need to convince me, Éponine" he shrugged his shoulders, resigned, "she's already a member of this crew."

"Yes, and she could use a little faith from her leader." He blinked rapidly and she knew he had noticed; how she had avoided the word captain in favor of leader. In their own unwritten rules, that meant she wasn't looking for an argument. Enjolras sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"She's not your responsibility. She will have to earn my faith, same as you did."

"I did?" Éponine asked, not sure at what point that had happened.

"I don't trust you, but you have proven you are capable... I have no doubt your presence here will make us stronger."

"She will prove it too" she assured, turning away to leave. But he called her name before she got too far.

"Éponine, where did you learn to fight?" She looked at him from the door and decided to be honest, as he had just been to her, even if it would add to his distrust.

"Patron-Minette" she replied, but didn't wait for another question, didn't even search his eyes for a reaction. Éponine left before Enjolras could either start a fight, or thank her for her honesty.

 

 

Hours later, Éponine was on watch duty at the nest. The sun was high and bright in the sky, there was only a slight breeze in the air. Éponine had rolled up her sleeves and taken off her vest and boots, but the heat was still excruciating. She felt her pants, missing the lightness of a skirt. That's when she noticed the letter in her pocket. She took it out and opened it, fearful of who she guessed it was from. 

And she had guessed it right. Éponine had read too many of the messages she had delivered for him to recognise his handwriting, sending her a warning from across the country:

_Dearest Éponine,_

_Your presence is greatly missed among our crew. Especially by me._

_I have been told different versions of the events that took place on the unfortunate day you were taken from us, but I hope I will hear the truth from yourself soon._

_Be safe until you find your way back home, or until we find you._

_Remember: no ocean can keep us apart._

_Montparnasse._

Éponine shivered at his words. The sweat on her neck turned cold as she fisted the letter in an attempt to shake the fear off of her bones. It was just a letter, some ink and paper and words put together, but it conveyed a very clear message that she had hoped never to hear: they were looking for her, and when they found her, there would be no escape. 

Éponine felt trapped in the middle of the ocean, the horizon suddenly too large for her to watch over. 

 

 


	7. Before the Storm

That day was a busy one on board of Le Musain, as Éponine helped Joly and Combeferre tend to the wounded on the sickbay. 

No more than a few hours ago, Les Amis had boarded a royalist ship, and although this time Éponine hadn't been badly injured, at least five others had. So there she was, trying not to get in the way of Joly as he worked on a man's arm. The boarding hadn't been easy, it had been soldiers this time, and they had been better prepared and armed than their crew. As a result, the fight had turned out bloody, but thankfully, there had been no casualties. The sight of the sickbay, however, made it seem as if they had just returned from war. All Éponine could see wherever she looked was blood: dripping from bandages, draining the color from the men's faces... and all she could think about was how much easier it would be to help these men if the ship would just remain steady for more than two minutes.

The storm had begun as soon as they lost sight of the other ship, and ever since, Le Musain had been at the mercy of the waves. Éponine could feel them hitting harshly against the hull, making the boards shriek and the ship swing. And it still wasn't over after they finished their work with the wounded. 

Éponine headed for the deck, where she stood for a few minutes holding onto the railing, fighting against the harsh wind, and letting the rain wash the blood away from her clothes. She could finally let a breath out after the buzz of the day. But her rest was interrupted when someone grabbed at her arm and dragged her inside one of the cabins. Once she glanced around, she noticed the familiar table flooded with papers, and Éponine realized it was the capatin's quarters. She turned around to catch a glimpse of Enjolras by the closed door, taking off his drenched jacket with a sour-faced expression.

"Are you mad, Éponine?" he questioned dropping the jacket on a chair and focusing his gaze on her. "Why were you out there in the middle of such a storm?"

Éponine felt ridiculous standing there in her soaked clothes as he scolded her. It reminded her of her childhood, when she would get her dresses muddy and her mum would reprimand her. Only a long time had passed since then, and the man before her was definitely not her mum. Éponine rolled her eyes annoyed, wet and tired.

"I was trying to get the blood off my clothes" she explained, examining her mostly white shirt. Enjolras approached her with a look of concern.

"Are you hurt?"

Éponine shook her head "No, I'm not. I have been helping Joly, that's all." 

"You've got a bruise on your face" he said, tilting her head towards the light to get a better look. Éponine felt his fingers brush the skin over her cheekbone, and she furrowed her brows both at the foreign sensation and interaction. She looked away as he examined her, uncomfortable at his proximity, when she spotted a bottle on his desk. 

Éponine snorted.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked, getting past him and holding the bottle of wine accusingly in the air. "Have you no sense of decency?" she continued, as she sipped from the bottle herself. Enjolras chuckled. "I'm serious" Éponine said, "there are men bleeding on the sickbay."

"And I know they are in good hands" he replied as he made his way to the chair behind the desk. Éponine noticed he was slightly rosy on his cheeks, and she took pride on making him feel shame for once. "Besides, I have a good reason to drink. That ship today... it was a blessing."

Éponine stared at him confused, "There was barely anything of value."

"Not all things can be valued in money" he said, holding a book in his hand. "This log book contains information not only about its ship routes, but also about its encounters with other royalist ships" he explained satisfied. Éponine noticed a glimmer in his eyes, and although her first instinct had been to attribute it to the wine, as his words sank in, she saw in it a different meaning. It wasn't the gaiety of drunkness which made his eyes glimmer, it was a sense of victory. "We have leads on multiple ships, but most importantly, we know when and where that ship was supposed to meet and scort another one going back to France from the colonies."

Éponine's eyes widened unconciously as soon as she understood what Enjolras was saying. There was a ship somewhere in the ocean with a hold full of goods and riches gathered from the colonies. And they knew where to find it. "That is indeed a reason to drink" she commented, as she sipped once again from the bottle. 

"It will be a huge blow, Éponine" Enjolras said excited, "As soon as the storm passes I will tell the crew. The winds are changing in our favor, I can feel it."

Éponine found herself mesmerized at the sight of him; the hope in his words, the passion for his fight. It was a strange occasion, him being this open around her, and she found herself wishing for more of these moments. For once, she felt accepted by him, trustworthy. Éponine felt the blood pulsing on the cheek his fingers had touched, and shivered when a chill ran through her spine, not from the cold of her clothes, but from the words Courfeyrac had spilled back at the inn about their captain. Enjolras was staring at her intently, and she couldn't help but relive the image she had pictured then: her sitting on his lap, his hands covering every inch of her skin. 

"I should go now" she said as she stood abruptly, placing the bottle back in its place on the desk. 

"You should not" Enjolras replied, and it stopped her on her track. He stood up and wandered the cabin towards a closet, from where he fetched a clean shirt which he offered to her. "If you spend the night in those, you'll get ill" he explained, "take this."

Éponine took the garment from his hand and nodded thankfully. She then proceeded to search the room for a place where she could change in privacy, but there was none. She gave him an apologetic look as she felt her face burning with embarrasment. "There's nowhere else to change, so..."

"Oh" he said, averting his eyes towards the floorboards. He turned around to face the wall. Éponine turned her back on him, took off her wet clothes, and let them on a chair to dry. She then put on the new garment, which covered her legs a little above her knees. It wasn't ideal, it wasn't decent, but it was warmer than she'd felt in the last hours, so she embraced it and grabbed a blanket from his bed to wear as a cape on top of it. 

"Thank you" she said, as a sign that it was safe for him to turn around. Enjolras nodded approvingly when he saw her and cleared his throat. "You should sleep on the bed" he said, going back to the chair behind his desk, and before Éponine could refuse, he added "I probably won't get any sleep studying this." 

"I shall keep you company then" she concluded, taking a seat on the free chair by the desk, decided to fight him if he tried to change her mind. But he didn't, and instead he nodded in agreement as he opened the log to examine it. 

They spent the night between coordinates, light conversation and gulps of wine. It was the most civil time they had ever shared, and they both enjoyed it so much that they forgot about being guarded around each other. Morning found Éponine waking in his bed, and when she looked around the room, she found him asleep over his desk. She hurried to change into her clothes and left the cabin before he woke up, knowing that the truce they had found that night probably wouldn't hold under the morning sun. 

 

 

The crew of Le Musain woke up to discover that there was land on sight. According to Combeferre's calculations, the island they had drifted towards during the storm was São Miguel, the largest island in a Portuguese archipelago. Éponine couldn't mind less what the place was called, for it was the most beautiful sight she had ever witnessed. The island was a long stretch of land whose rich green wilderness and beaches of white sand lured the tired revolutionaries toward its coast. After the events of the previous day, and the news that they had a long journey ahead of them to spot the colonies' ship, the crew unanimously decided to drop anchor near the west side of the island, where they would have time to rest and plan for their next route. 

Nobody was expecting what Marius announced that night as they sat around a fire on the beach, drinking rum and sharing stories. 

"Cosette and I are engaged" he said, and one by one the faces surrounding the fire lit up in delightful smiles at the news.

"Congratulations Pontmercy!" some raised their cups to cheer the couple. "Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with him, Cosette?" some others joked. 

Éponine just smiled as she drank, once again finding herself in the midst of a battle of mixed feelings in her chest. It was recurrent, she noticed, with anything that had to with Cosette. She always found herself happy for whatever brought joy to the other girl. They had become friends in the last weeks and she wished the best for Cosette... however, there was always that sting of envy following close behind, as she admired the life of the girl when -in her heart- she wished it was her own life she saw. There, right in front of her, was one more moment in which she desired to switch places with the Lark, and be for once the recipient of such happines, of such love. Marius and Cosette were meant to be, it was evident to everyone's eyes. Éponine wondered if someday, someone would look at her and whoever was beside her, and think the same.

"Of course I will spend the rest of my days with him" Cosette replied amused. "It was I, after all, who asked."

"What?" was the general reaction among their friends. "Marius, you little coward!" Grantaire joked, and Marius' face turned red from all the attention.

"We have decided to do it here" he managed to speak over the rest of them, a giant smile plastered on his lips. "If you all agree, of course."

"We would like to have a small ceremony tomorrow" Cosette continued to explain. "Since most of our friends are here, we don't see the necessity to wait any longer."

"Someone can't wait for their wedding night!" Courfeyrac grinned, and the crew's laughter interrupted the stillness of the lonely island. 

"Why wait until tomorrow? Why not do it tonight?" Prouvaire suggested, cheering the couple with his cup in the air. The rest of them agreed with shouts of "ayes" and some toasts, but Marius shook his head "It's too dark here, we'll wait until tomorrow."

"But what about your families? What will they say?" Combeferre asked. 

"Papa knows about our engagement. It actually hapenned while in Paris" Cosette said, shrugging her shoulders "We plan on having a formal ceremony someday, so that won't be a trouble."

"And I don't mind what my family will have to say" Marius explained, throwing his arm over Cosette's shoulder to bring her closer. "They can foresake me for being part of Les Amis, but they would be mad to forbid me to marry this woman."

A chorus of whistles followed his words, and the excitement over the news got the crew talking about it during a good part of the night. Éponine shared their excitement, and enjoyed the unexpected wave of familiarity that settled among the people gathered there. So she drank, and let the feeling of happiness for her friends overcome that of envy. 

 

Later in the night, when the enthusiasm had receded, Éponine laid in the sand unable to catch sleep. Most of the crew was snoring. Apart from that, all Éponine could hear was the murmur of conversation from the few people still awake and the sound of the sea a few meters from where she lay, a constant in her life by then. Grantaire laid at her side, as they shared a bottle of wine and late night drunk confidences. 

"Will you ever get married, Grantaire?" she asked, tilting her head to look at her friend. His gaze was lost in the stars above them, but he smiled at her question.

"Who says I'm not married already?" Éponine chuckled, but the silence stretched for so long, that she wondered if he was serious.

"Are you?" Éponine asked incredulous. Grantaire laughed.

"Of course I'm not!" he replied, taking the wine from Éponine's hands and drinking a gulp of it. "None of us could be. Or else we wouldn't be here!" he stayed quiet for a moment, lost in the stars and his own thoughts. "Although we could agree that our captain is certainly married to his cause."

"He certainly is" Éponine agreed, thinking of his cold eyes back at the inn, when he had been surrounded by lust, and how merry they had been in his cabin, talking about their new target. There was undoubtedly passion in him, only he poured it all into the world, and seemed to keep nothing to himself.

"I assume you'll want to get married someday" Grantaire said, making her turn to rest on her side to get a better look at him.

"I do. But why do you assume?"

"You asked first" he sipped a bit more of wine, but Éponine took the bottle away and drank herself. He threw her a mischievous glance then, a naughty smile playing on his lips. "And I saw your face back there, looking at Marius" he said, getting her attention back. He raised his eyebrows "Do you love him?"

Éponine snorted. "He's my friend, what are you talking about?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

He was right. Éponine sipped more wine to get the words straight in her mind. Did she love Marius? No. At least she didn't think so. She had never been in love, so she had no real way of knowing if what she felt for the man was love. She felt a profound respect towards him, though, since he'd been the first to show her kindness, to count her in. Besides, he was everything she had ever dreamt of having, but knew she could never have. That kind of men were not for her, she knew it, and maybe the fact that he was unattainable was what made him all the more desirable. Like a sweet she would never get a taste of. 

"Do I love Marius? I don't know. It's just different with him" she replied honestly, shaking her head and feeling the world spin for a second. Too much wine, she guessed. "Would I say yes, if he proposed? Of course. What woman wouldn't like to be in Cosette's place?"

"I see" Grantaire replied, not a bit of judgement in his voice. "Well... now you will have to resign for one of the bachelors, since he's getting married. Anyone in mind?"

Éponine rolled her eyes, but inside she felt relieved that he hadn't dug any further. That was what she liked about Grantaire; it was easy talking to him, he never let the discussion get too serious, not without conveniently drifting to jokes. 

"Well, of course it would be you Grantaire" she joked, faking a dramatic tone and grabbing his hand between hers. "You are always in my mind."

"Don't get my hopes too high 'Ponine" he laughed, "we might still have two weddings tomorrow instead of one."

 

They finished the wine eventually, and it didn't take long for Grantaire to join the chorus of snoring men. Éponine just laid there looking up at the stars, her head too busy to get any sleep, her eyelids refusing to be kept closed. She gave up trying to sleep after some time and decided to wander the beach instead. Maybe that way, the wine would leave her brain and she could find some rest. 

But what she found after a few minutes of walking was Enjolras sitting against a rock, nursing an empty bottle of rum.

"It's still strange to see you drinking like the rest of mortals" she said as way of announcement. Enjolras lifted his head taken by surprise, but didn't attempt to move. He seemed guarded, and she guessed it wouldn't be a great idea to take a seat near him, so she just stood where she was. "There's a lot to celebrate tonight, huh?"

"I'm not celebrating that unnecessary fake wedding" he muttered, loud enough that she could hear, "Go away, Éponine."

Éponine was shocked. "Are you really mad at them for getting married?" she asked, glaring at him for such a childish behaviour. She knew how he felt about Cosette coming with them, but he had no right to be angry about something that made his friends happy. 

"I said go away" was his answer. Éponine felt her wine-over-loaded blood rush to her tongue. 

"Fuck you" she let out, furrowing her brows, "why can't you just be happy for your friends? This is important for them! Everybody is celebrating and you're here brooding all alone because people forgot about your revolution for five minutes."

"And you're happy for them?" he asked, a weak smile on his lips. "Please, you love Marius. I heard you talking to Grantaire." Éponine opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her no time to reply. Enjolras stood up and threw the empty bottle against the rock, making it shatter. Even in the dark, Éponine was able to see the angry scowl he was aiming at her. "But that was just another lie, wasn't it? You just can't stop lying, can you?"

"What?" Éponine asked confused. 

"Everybody is so blind! You've got them all fooled, but not me. You're done, Éponine. You're done with us."

Enjolras walked away, but she didn't dare to follow. She had no clue what had got into that head of his, but her own head was buzzing and her limbs felt weak. Drowsiness was finally catching up to her, so she laid in the sand to welcome some rest. The last thing in her mind before she fell unconscious were his words:  _You're done with us_. She didn't know what he meant, but in her nightmare, she found herself on her own in the middle of that island. Éponine hadn't felt lonely for so long that, when she woke up, she was terrified to find no one around.

 

 


	8. São Miguel

The wedding took place in the early afternoon. There was no banquet after, nor were the witnesses dressed in their best clothes -since they had no such thing; there wasn't a priest either, nor rings to exchange. But nonetheless, Éponine thought it was a moment to treasure, a moment that she -one more time- wished to be the protagonist of.

Cosette was radiant, and so was Marius. They exchanged vows at the beach, by the water, and after that, they kissed and the place was filled with jubilant cheers. 

The crew improvised a party that lasted until nearly nightfall, but before the sun set, Éponine got away and wandered the forest in the company of Prouvaire, Bahorel, Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Gavroche. She had been relieved when Enjolras had declined to join them. They hadn't spoken after their argument the previous night, and she had avoided any encounter with him to prevent ruining the celebrations with their bickering. She didn't want to be around him any time soon, and apparently he didn't either; and that was fine by her.

After almost two hours of aimlessly walking among trees, their group came upon a strange lake. It was strange because its water was radiating steam.

"I dare you to get in there, R" Bahorel said as the rest of them cautiously bordered the lake.

"Don't give him ideas" Prouvaire said smiling, "although we can all agree he could use a bath."

"We all could" Courfeyrac agreed, and then, startled, he shouted: "Gravoche stop!" 

But before anyone could stop him, the boy jumped into the water. When he rose to the surface, there was a smug smile on his lips. "It's just warm water, come see!"

And they didn't really need any more convincing. Soon enough the lot of them were paddling in the water, their clothes sticking to their skin, their bodies warm from the wonderful hot waters. "How can this be?" Éponine wondered, "It's better than a bath!"

"Éponine, do not question the marvels of nature" Grantaire said, chasing after Gavroche, "just enjoy them!"

And they all did. They fooled around for a while, but when the only remaining light was that of the moon, they fell into a serene silence and just rested. Their muscles relaxed, their hangovers were forgotten, and they came to the conclusion that the storm had taken them straight to paradise.

"This is undoubtedly the island of an angel" Courfeyrac said as they made the walk back to the beach. Wandering the forest then was not so pleasant, as the night air was chilly and their clothes were drenched. But the bliss and calm they all felt refused to break the spell they were under. Reality couldn't get to them just yet.

"An archangel" Prouvaire corrected, "Saint Michael was an archangel."

"What's the difference? What made him different from the rest of angels?" 

"Oh little Gavroche, you have so much to learn!" Grantaire joked, but then proceeded to explain: "Archangels hold a higher rank than angels. Saint Michael, in fact, is the most important of them; he is the leader of heaven's forces against evil."

"So... he is the Enjolras of the angels?" Gavroche asked, earning the laughter of the rest of them.

"More or less" Bahorel replied, nodding his head.

"But Saint Michael is also referred to as the Angel of Death" Prouvaire added, "his job is to weigh the souls of the deceased to decide if they'll get to heaven," he shrugged his shoulders, "so, he is a little bit more important than our humble leader; but don't let him know that." 

He winked at Gavroche knowingly, and the boy laughed in return. 

 

 

It was on the following day that they were planning on leaving. The last few days had been meant to relax and rest, but with all the celebrations and their as-always-exceptional stock of alcohol, they hadn't been able to catch a bit of rest. They had taken a break from the sea, so at least that was something.

That morning, Enjolras had summoned them all at the beach. Éponine had assumed he had wanted to go through their plan to intercept the colonies' ship cargo, but apparently it had absolutely nothing to do with that. The only person who seemed to know what was going on was Combeferre, as he stood next to Enjolras with his gaze stuck on the sand.

"Before we go back to Le Musain there is something you all need to know" he announced, his eyes surveying the crew, his tone serious as he continued. "I learnt something two days ago that I consider needs to be taken into account for our future as a crew. It concerns a particular member, but it affects us all."

There was a pause as the people gathered around Enjolras murmured, sharing worried and confused looks. Éponine couldn't look at anybody;  if she took her eyes off of Enjolras, she thought she might fall.  _You're done with us_ , he had told her, and the dread she felt at the pit of her stomach somehow related that statement with what he was about to announce.  

Enjolras raised his voice above the murmurs as he went on: "The reason I am only now sharing this with you all was for the sake of these days celebrations. I didn't want to spoil your stay here, but now it's time for you to know, and decide." His eyes met Éponine's just for a moment, and she could find nothing but iron in them. "Before I explain anything further, I think it's fair for you all to hear the message I found in my quarters, so you can better judge for yourselves." Enjolras cleared his throat, and began reading. And Éponine's world started spinning as she recognised the words:

 _"Dearest Éponine,"_ he began, not bothering to pause despite the murmurs of the crew. " _Your presence is greatly missed among our crew. Especially by me. /_ _I have been told different versions of the events that took place on the unfortunate day you were taken from us, but I hope I will hear the truth from yourself soon. /_ _Be safe until you find your way back home, or until we find you. / Remember: no ocean can keep us apart."_ Enjolras lifted his eyes from the letter to face the people around him, before he concluded: "Signed:  _Montparnasse."_

The unrest around her wasn't the first thing Éponine noticed. 

The first thing she noticed after Enjolras finished reading was how wrong those words had sounded; not like the threat they were, but rather like an intimate message. The second thing she noticed, was that the letter could indeed not be found in her pocket, so there was no chance this was a nightmare. Only then did she look around to notice the unrest among the people she considered family. 

Éponine felt many things at that moment. Warmth on her cheeks, fear creeping her insides, tears she was determined not to spill... She could feel the heat of the sun burning her skin, and the sweat that crawled down her neck. But mostly, she felt the judgement of the crew like a blow to the stomach. They were looking at her and she found many emotions in their expressions: from disgust, to confusion, to fear. But what hurt her the most, was that some of them couldn't even look at her.

"As you can see, Éponine has been lying to us all along" Enjolras spoke again, getting the attention back to him. Éponine was almost grateful. Almost. "She said she had nothing to do with Patron-Minette, and yet, here they say it's her home. She claimed she didn't care for them, and yet, here is clear that she's involved with this Montparnasse." Enjolras paused and looked at her. There was anger in his eyes, but she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't let it all out until she was alone. And that would happen rather sooner than later. "Lies and more lies" he continued, and his words resonated in her mind:  _You just can't stop lying, can you?_ But he was so wrong. "And there is still more, concerning her involvement with Patron-Minette. This letter" he said, holding it up for everyone to see, "is adressed not to an Éponine Jondrette, but to Éponine Thénardier" he finished, spitting the last words.

If the mention of Montparnasse's name had caused a stir, the truth of her identity even granted her shouts and insults. "Band of thieves!", "Murderers!", "Whore!" She didn't dare to look around her, her gaze firmly focused on Enjolras, who tried to quiet the insults by resuming his speech.

"Now, I am as angry as you are, but the reason I shared this was not to humiliate her, but to decide what should be done about it. I know some of you have grown fond of her, but I ask you all to consider what this means to our cause. She has betrayed our trust, and infiltrated our crew God knows with what purpose. So what I ask now is that we decide, that we vote, whether Éponine is to continue the journey ahead with us, or if she is to remain in this island to her own luck."

Opinions were voiced then, but Éponine couldn't hear them as loud as they were. She couldn't pay attention to what the men were saying because the only thing in her mind was how weary she felt inside. How panicked. How betrayed. After everything they had been through, and everything they had shared, he wanted to abandon her there? They weren't the closest of friends, she wasn't even sure if they could be considered as such, but there had been undoubtedly some kind of comradery between them from time to time, enough to make his resolution to leave her behind hurt. She took her eyes off of him and stared at the sand, feeling at the same time in her stomach a turmoil of emotions and a suffocating emptiness.

"Have you got nothing to say for yourself?" His voice spoke again, addresing her, but she couldn't bring herself to raise her eyes for him. 

"Explain 'em, 'Ponine!" she heard Gavroche say, and she noticed the panic in his voice, "Tell 'em how it is! Defend yourself!"

Her eyes wandered the crowd until she found him. He was so small for his age, and still, he stood out in any crowd. She nodded at him, a sign that she wouldn't just give up, and although she didn't know where to begin, she took a step toward the place were Enjolras was. Without granting him a glance, she faced the crew to explain herself. Her next words would determine her continuity with them, or they would condemn her to this island. She cleared her throat and looked at everybody and nobody at the same time.

"It is true" she began, clearing her throat, making it her mission not to stutter, "I received that letter, and I am indeed a Thénardier. But those are the only crimes I can be accused of." 

The crew grew silent, they were expectant, and Éponine made the mistake of surveying the crowd. She knew it was a mistake as soon as her eyes found familiar faces, her friends, those closer to her. Bahorel was angry, there was no hiding the fire in his eyes. Prouvaire and Joly seemed disappointed, sad that she had finally turned out to be exactly what they refused to believe she was. Grantaire and Courfeyrac were expectant, as if they hadn't decided yet what to think of her; and although she should feel thankful that they found a way to grant her the benefit of doubt, she could only feel dejected that they had let Enjolra's discourse get into their idea of her. They should know her better. She had believed they did. 

Despite it all, she trained her eyes on them, for it was them she really cared about.

"I am unfortunately my father's daughter, it's true; but there is nothing I can do about that. I am not him, nor am I like him." She found Gavroche next to Grantaire and he urged her to keep going. "I lied about it, yes, because I didn't want any of you to have preconceived ideas about me. But there is no secret plot... there is no hidden reason as to why I joined this crew. I wanted to get away from Patron-Minette, and I knew they could find me if I stayed on land, so I decided to join this fight. And even if my reasons to be here are not what you all thought, I still believe in what you fight for." 

Éponine waited for the murmurs to fade, but when they didn't, she raised her voice above them, "I was with Patron-Minette because of my father, not because I wanted to. I received that message a week ago but I decided to stay; I chose you. Because this crew is the closest thing to a home I have known. Not them, you." It was then she saw a flicker of doubt in their eyes. They believed her, at least some of them, so she continued "I know what that letter sounds like. I know that Enjolras can be very convincing, but he is wrong" she glared at him beside her, and she almost believed he had shuddered. "That letter is nothing but a threat. A warning that they will find me, not a plead for me to go back." Her eyes returned to the crew before her, "There is nothing that could make me go back there. There is no relation between Montparnasse and I, apart from that of a guard and his fugitive. I know what his words sound like, but I ask you to trust me. You know me. Nothing of what I have shared or lived with you was a lie."

Soon after that, Courfeyrac was at her side, speaking on her behalf. So was Grantaire, and even Prouvarie and Gavroche.  Marius and Cosette spoke for her too, and Éponine's fears began to dissipate. She hadn't lost them, they still believed her, she wouldn't be alone. 

 

The vote was tight, but the majority decided that she would continue to be a part of Le Musain. The losing side was anything but happy with the results, but they had to accept it.

 

And so they went back to the sea. Éponine knew things wouldn't be the same, since she would have to be careful around those who had voted against her, but at least she had nothing to hide now. There were no more secrets, no more hiding, and she began to wonder if she would be capable of surviving without the comfort of the shadows for long.

 

 

Grantaire had refused to leave her side that day, and she was grateful to feel his presence beside her as she heard some men murmuring and glaring in her direction. She was grateful for his presence as well when Enjolras approached her in their way to the crew's quarters.

"I thought you might want this back" he said, as he offered Éponine the letter. She took it without bothering to look at his face. She'd had enough of him to last her a lifetime that day. 

"You could have asked me about this in private" she replied, her eyes fixed at some point behind him. 

"Everyone deserved to know" was his sole excuse. But despite his lack of apology, Éponine noticed his tone was soft, less stern. "Besides, you convinced them. You're still here."

"And now half of the crew hates me. Your campaign against me wasn't all in vain after all."

She didn't wait for his response. She didn't want to hear it, so she walked past him and continued her way down the stairs.

 

That night, Éponine laid in the hammock next to Grantaire's. 

"How did that letter even end up in his hands?" he asked, and she turned on her side to face him. 

"I don't know" she sighed, "I must have dropped it while I changed."

"In his quarters?" Éponine saw his eyebrows questioning her and rolled her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. It was the night of the storm. My clothes were wet and he gave me something to change into." She shook her head at the memory. It seemed like another person had been there then, not him. "He was drunk. That's probably the reason he was nice."

"He acts so strange around you" Grantaire said after a while. "One moment he's sheltering you from the storm and the next he wants to abandon you on an island."

"He must be mad."

"No, I've known him for a while and he's never been like that. I've never seen him so... divided about something. Like he doesn't know what to make of you."

"Well, I honestly don't care anymore. I have tried enough, I'm done being nice."

 _You're done, Éponine_ , he had told her, _You're done with us_. 

 _No_ , she corrected him on her mind,  _No, I'm only done with you_. 

And something about that resolution made her heart heavy. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, I love drama.   
> Fun fact: I actually researched random islands for this. I wanted the island to have some meaning, and when I found this one with that name it was just a perfect coincidence. Judgemental angel leader, anyone??  
> Anyway, hope you liked it. And a little warning: things only go downhill from here on :)


	9. Gone

It took three days for the consequences of being a Thénardier to catch up with Éponine. 

During the first few days back at Le Musain things had been normal to some extent. She had carried on with her tasks, lunched with her friends and met them at night to play cards. She had read with Cosette, kept watch with Gavroche, and laid under the sun with Grantaire. However, some things had noticeably changed, like the way some members of the crew treated her, or talked behind her back, or the way she had been avoiding any interaction with Enjolras at all costs.

But on the third day, Éponine's routine was interrupted when Jerome, a man with whom she'd never even spoken, intercepted her on the hold. She was gathering some food for that day's meal when he approached her from behind and got a hold of her short hair, making her yelp at the sudden pull.

"So we finally got the traitor alone" he said in her ear. Éponine tried to get away, but every attempt made her neck hurt. Her hands were thrashing at his head behind her, but it didn't seem to affect the man.

"Let me go!" she cried when he caught one of her arms and twisted it against her back. Jerome chuckled. His breath stank of rum. 

"You don't seem so dangerous now, Thénardier" he spat at her last name, "I don't get why the others coward at your name. A name's just a name, right? You're just a weakling sack of skin and bones, not the big threat you're supposed to be."

"What do you want?" she asked, unable to fight, unable to breathe right. Jerome tightened his hold on her hair and turned her face to make her look at him.

"We want you gone" he threatened, fury punctuating every word. "I would end you myself, but too many people are always watching, so I want you to leave when we reach land, or I will kill you then. Scum like you have no place here."

Éponine's breathing was faltering, her shoulder hurt from the angle of her arm, but even so, she refused to give in. "You won't have no place here when I tell them of your threats."

His hold on her grew stronger as she felt his body pressed against her back. He let go of her arm, only for his hand to reach her neck, seizing it in a suffocating choke. "You won't talk, stupid girl" he warned, squeezing so hard she could feel his nails digging into the skin of her throat. Éponine couldn't breath, her free hand grabbed at his wrist to get rid of his hold, but another pull at her hair got her completely stiff as she choked. "I'm not alone in this. The others will tell how it was you who tried to kill me, and who do you think Enjolras will believe? You're not welcomed here anymore Thénardier. You better disappear."

He then let her go, but she felt so dizzy, that Éponine dropped to her knees as she caressed her neck. And she cried. She cried because she was afraid, and she cried because she felt helpless. And she cried because for the first time in the past few months, that place didn't feel safe anymore. 

 

 

Éponine knew it was the last thing she should be doing, but she saw no other way of dealing with it. It was the last person she should talk to, or wished to see, but she couldn't tell her friends what had happened; they would surely fight her aggressor and make the matter worse. So, late at night, while everybody slept and nobody could see her, she sneaked into Enjolras' quarters. As much as it pained her to seek his help, he was the only person on the ship who could do something about it without turning to violence. She didn't even know if he would listen, or believe her, or care at all. But if he knew about today, at least she would stand a chance when they reached land. Because she intented to stay, whatever the cost. And right then, the cost was her pride.

Éponine walked cautiously in the darkness of the quarter. There was a window behind the desk, but the light filtering only helped her make out shapes. She would need light if she wanted to be believed, so Éponine approached the desk and lit a candle. Then, she turned to her left and caught sight of him, soundlessly sleeping on the bed. Éponine took a deep breath as she neared it, praying that he would listen. His hair was dishevelled, his mouth partially open, there was no frown on his forehead. In another life, Éponine would have marveled and blushed at such sight, she would have tried to make herself presentable, and even would have wished to be lying beside him. But in this life, Éponine knew better; she knew about the iron underneath, and the hatred he felt for her. So she just woke him, with the hope that, for once, his sense of justice wouldn't ignore her.

"Enjolras" she murmured, as she shook his shoulder. The man opened his eyes and became confused when he recognised her.

"Éponine? What are you doing here?" 

Éponine took a step back as he sat up. She wasted no time and took off the handkerchief which had been covering her neck all day. "I was threatened today" she said, holding the candle closer to her neck so he could see the bruise, in the shape of fingers. Enjolras' eyes widened and he stood up fast to get a closer look. He stood before her, a little bit too close. Éponine held her breath when his fingers hovered over her neck, but she never felt his touch.

"Who did this?" he asked, his lips turning into a stern thin line.

"Someone who doesn't want me here" she replied. 

She couldn't give him a name, or anything to act on. She just wanted him to know. So she took a step back, where she could breathe easier. "He told me there were people who didn't want me here, that I didn't belong. He threatened to kill me if I don't leave voluntarily."

Enjolras shook his head, "I can't believe any member of the crew would..."

"I didn't believe it either" she cut him, before he could even consider doubting her, "but I can assure you, I didn't choke myself. So I'm asking you, just this once. Believe me."

"I believe you" he said, a confused tone in his voice, "but I need his name, or I won't be able to do anything about it."

"I don't want you to do anything about it" she replied, taking one more step back, placing the candle on top of the desk so she could tie the handkerchief around her neck again. Enjolras seemed lost. "If he's blamed for this, another will follow through with his threat" she explained. "I haven't told anybody, just you. I just wanted you to know, before they get to you. They'll accuse me of something so you will have me gone; but now you know what they're capable of."

Éponine turned to go, but before she reached the door, she stopped on her track. "I know you want me gone too" she said, glancing at him over her shoulder, "but I hope your judgement will not be clouded when the time comes. I'm trusting you, like you said I could all those weeks ago. I'm hoping my trust is well-placed."

She reached for the doorknob but he called to her. "Éponine, wait." He hurried towards where she stood, and grabbed her arm to turn her around so he could face her. "I would feel better if you stayed here. Now that I know it's not safe among the crew... you'll be safe here."

Éponine smiled bitterly, her gaze fixed on his hand holding onto her arm. "And I would feel better if you had just talked about that letter with me first. I wouldn't be in this situation at all, if you had." She looked up at his eyes, and saw the iron melting. Now he understood. Now he saw another way. But now it was too late. Éponine shrugged her shoulders, "I guess the world doesn't owe us a thing."

His hand fell from her arm then, defeated. And Éponine left, never minding the bitter sensation that, in another life, she would have stayed.

 

 

 

Cannons. The stillness of mornings at sea was interrupted that day by the sound of cannons. The crew was woken with a jolt, and everybody ran towards their positions with the inevitable sense of fear taking over their bones. Who was attacking them? How had they not been seen? And in Éponine's case, there was one more question that chilled her insides: Had Patron-Minette finally found her? 

She hurried towards the deck, where she was suppossed to repell on boarders, but when she got there, her mission proved difficult. There were too many of them already boarding Le Musain, and although she shouldn't feel relieved at the sight of so many men, she couldn't help but think that -thankfully- it couldn't be Patron-Minette -they didn't have such crew. 

Éponine drew her sword from the belt and joined the fight. There were men everywhere around, all engaged with members of her own crew, and every clashing of swords made her quiver at the memory of her being stabbed. She was fighting, but she felt like she was out of the scene, as if the adrenaline had taken control of her body and she was but a mere spectator. She didn't guide her movements, she just saw them as they happened. She saw herself bringing a man to his knees and knocking him in the head. She saw as she engaged with another and threw her blade against his leg, where she cut him. But not deep enough, he was still walking, and he was angry. And then Éponine witnessed as his fist found her face, and then, it was her on the ground. She heard Courfeyrac calling her, and then she saw him above her, fighting the same man and getting rid of him. And then he got her to her feet, and Éponine kept on fighting. 

She didn't know how long the fight went on. She saw a myriad of faces around her, she saw blood stains and heard shouts. And then another cannonball made Le Musain tremble, and they all fell off their feet. When she got to stand up and saw the deck around her, Éponine felt like the world had been turned upside down. 

They had lost. She knew from the way those strangers were swinging their swords in the air. She knew when she saw her friends being lined up on their knees. And she knew when they punched her in the stomach so she would drop her weapon and join the line. 

They had lost, and only God knew what awaited them.

 

 

Les Amis remained there, on their knees, as the other crew unloaded their hold and took away what little treasures they had stolen themselves. It was dispiriting, to watch it all go away, as they were there looking, unable to do anything about it. They were disarmed, surrounded by men who watched over their every flicker. But at least the ship wasn't sinking, neither were her friends badly injured as far as she could see. Éponine's face hurt where she had been beaten, but at least this time she wasn't bleeding.

"So this is the famous crew of Les Amis" a man spoke, loud enough that he could be heard by the whole line of defeated men. Éponine looked in his direction and found an imposing figure strolling the deck. Their captain. He was tall, with fair skin and blonde hair. Judging by those traits, he could be considered a similar figure to Enjolras, but as Éponine observed him, she could only find aspects that separated them. There was a mockery in the tone of his voice, and his eyes surveyed them as if they were nothing. He irradiated superiority, and also... there was something threatening about him. "Aren't we lucky bastards?" He questioned, and the men surrounding them broke in cheers. 

He paced along the line of men on their knees, inspecting them, and the sound of his boots against the wooden surface of the deck were their own kind of threat. "Now, I am aware that there is a bounty on all of your heads. You're worth a fortune! However, I'm a pirate myself," he laughed, "I can't just deliver you all to Javert and expect a reward." The men shouted their apprehension at the mention of Javert, but they all fell silent when their captain resumed his speech. "However, there is one person that somebody else is looking for, and they are certain that she sailed with you not so long ago."

Éponine noticed how everyone tensed. She watched the defiance in her friends' eyes, unwilling to look at her, or give any hint as to her whereabouts. 

"You all know who I'm talking about, don't you?" the captain asked, a wicked smile taking over his lips. "Éponine Thénardier!" he shouted, and the deck fell silent at the announcement. Éponine felt her hands shaking, so she grasped them tightly in front of her. "What can you tell me about her? Uh? Patron-Minette are set on finding her, but I would like to deliver her myself... It's always good to have the devil owe you a favor, aye?" he giggled, and his crew murmured approvingly. "So, who's going to talk?"

Éponine's head felt dizzy, she could feel the blood pulsing around her lip where she had been punched, and her tongue was dry as a stone. The longest time passed before she heard someone finally answer.

"She's not with us anymore" Enjolras' voice was firm, leaving no room for a doubt, "she sailed with us for a while, but we left her in France weeks ago. You better look for her on land."

"That's a pity" the captain said, standing in front of Enjolras, as if measuring him. He opened his mouth to say something else but a shout  interrupted him.

"Captain! We found her!" someone claimed. The man was breathless, pointing at the stairs that led to the floors below, "It's that Thénardier girl!"

Éponine looked at the stairs and there emerged a few men holding Cosette in place. She was bleeding from her mouth, and her hair was all over her face as she thrashed against the men, trying to get free.

"Leave her alone!" Éponine heard Marius shout, and Cosette's eyes focused on him, who was now being held down by some other men. 

The captain raised a questioning eyebrow and pulled from Enjolras' hair to lift his head. "What was it you said? She's not here anymore?"

"That's not Éponine Thénardier!" Enjolras told him, squaring his jaw. Éponine felt a chill run through her spine. He would give her away now. It was only fair, for the sake of Cosette. He wouldn't protect her, he had no reason to, not when someone else's safety was in danger. Éponine thought it selfish that she herself wouldn't just stand up and let them know it was her that they wanted. But her knees felt too weak, her body too heavy; she couldn't find the strength to get up. She couldn't even make her tongue move. Éponine was paralysed with fear. And then she heard Enjolras' muffled voice: "I told you, we left her weeks ago. That girl is not her. Let her go." And she let go of the breath she'd been holding onto.

"I'm finding it very hard to believe a word that comes out of your mouth" the captain hissed, letting Enjolras go.

"It's true, that's not Thénardier" Éponine heard someone else say. "The one you're looking for is on her knees, right there!" 

Jerome. Éponine saw Jerome pointing at her and then she heard the captain's steps nearing her, and suddenly he was pulling at her hair to get her to stand up. Éponine heard the commontion among her friends, they were shouting, protesting for him to let her go, but it was a sound muffled by the captain's laughter as he regarded her, considering her. 

"Are you really her? Éponine Thénardier?" he asked, sarcastic "You make such a believable boy!" with a swift movement, his hand flew to her crotch, grabbing hold of her cunt for some proof that there was indeed a woman underneath. Éponine leapt at the contact, and threw her fist at his face, panicked. And he let her go. He rubbed his cheek where she had hit him, but the victorious grin didn't leave his face. "No balls guys! Looks like we found our missing girl!" he announced, and his crew cheered him. Éponine felt her hands being drawn to her back as someone pushed her to walk. She tried to get away but their hold on her was too strong, there was nothing she could do to resist it. 

They guided her until she stood in front of her friends. With a brief look, she saw the panic and fear in their faces, and she wondered what she must have looked like herself. On the inside, she felt a numbing terror that was making her sick. But she wasn't allowed to focus on herself just yet. She heard her friends protest again and she noticed a blade against Cosette's throat. 

"Come on! Don't let the girl die for nothing!" the captain shouted, "I was told you are students, I know there must be a doctor among you."

Éponine noticed Cosette was crying. Their friends were shouting even louder. And in the middle of the commotion, Éponine saw a figure standing up.

"I'm a doctor" Joly said, his voice weak. "Now let her go."

"See? We can come to understand each other" the captain said, and he ordered his man to lower the sword. "Now, the good news! As you all probably know, Patron-Minette are really angry with you, and they take their revenge very seriously, so we cannot kill you ourselves! Smile, fellas, you'll live to run another day!" he mocked. "And since you all will be dead soon enough, we're taking the little bird with us! For her safety, of course."

Cosette shouted as they pushed her towards the place where Joly and Éponine stood, never letting go of her. The captain walked until he stood once again before Enjolras, who was glaring at him. "We took your food and threw your cannonballs to the water" he informed him, "so don't even think about following us. You won't last. Take your little crew and find some port where you can lick your wounds. Your friends will be fine with us, we'll take good care of them." He smiled at Enjolras and then punched him, taking great pleasure in the scornful look he received in return. "A pleasure doing business with you."

And then he left, and Éponine felt as someone dragged her away from Le Musain. 

The last thing she saw as she looked over her shoulder, was the despair in her friends' eyes. 

And just like that, she was gone.


	10. Lost at Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like giving warnings because it's like giving little spoilers, but I don't want people to read content they're not comfortable with either.   
> So WARNING: there's mentions of trauma, death and rape in this chapter.

The flame flickered, distracting Éponine from her writing. She looked up and noticed the candle was almost consumed, its melted wax slowly drowning the wick, macking the flame waver. She reached for another candle and lit it, and then resumed her writing.

She was busy with another letter, the best form of distraction from the muffled chatter of men outside. Writing had become a way to evade herself, to maintain some kind of link to her previous life. She missed them, so she wrote them letters.

In those letters, Éponine shared pieces of her current life, the nice ones, like the time she had helped Babet compose a letter for some lady; or the time Claquesous had taught her how to cheat at cards; or that time when Montparnasse had caught an enormous fish and they had shared it at night, sitting on deck and staring quietly at the starry sky. She liked writing about those moments, because at least while the quill was running through the paper, Éponine could pretend that what she wrote was the whole truth, -all that there was to her life there.

She couldn't write about the rest of it, the ugly side. The murder, torture, the abuse. Those were too dangerous to think about, to write about. Because if she did, if she wrote about them, she would have to relive them. She would have to think about them, and she couldn't give anything too much thought, or it would stick to her mind, and then it would never leave.

Once the ink was dry, Éponine rolled the parchment and slipped it inside a bottle she had managed to sneak. She sealed it with its cork and then, silently, Éponine wandered the deck until she reached the stern of the ship. She threw the bottle into the ocean and watched it dissapear into the darkness of the waves at night. She knew it would never reach them, but she liked to think it would, and that someday she would receive an answer. And so she wouldn't feel so terribly alone.

 

...

 

Enjolras woke up to the light of the sun filtering through the window pane. He laid in his bed with closed eyes, adjourning the moment in which he'd have to begin the day. One more restless day of fighting for that in which he believed. But that day would be harder than most. It was one of those days, of waking up to a hollow sensation; to a dry throat; to the memory of Éponine.

For someone he'd shared so little time with, he thought about her more often than not.

It had been over a year ago when they took her away, -and Cosette and Joly too. He thought about them often as well, but it didn't feel the same when it came to Éponine. It was the guilt, he knew, and although he had tried to get past it, he just couldn't. It accompanied him, like a shadow. Despite all the time that had gone by, Enjolras couldn't shake the sense of guilt from his being. Or maybe it was because of all of the time that had gone by, because she was still missing -if she was even alive- and he knew it was his fault.

 

...

 

Éponine didn't cry for her father when he died. Whatever affection had ever existed, dried long ago.

Her heart was dry to the core. As if it was just stone.

 

...

 

When it came to Éponine, there was too much to regret.

Enjolras regretted ever distrusting her. He knew there had been reasons to doubt her, but there had also been enough reasons to give her a chance. Éponine had tried to make him see that, but he had been so conflicted about her... He had let his paranoia rule, even when he had been captivated by her. Especially because he had been captivated by her.

He regretted not being able to embrace her presence in the way his friends had. They had been guarded around her once, but she got into their hearts rapidly, and they embraced it, unconditionally. He hadn't been able to do that.

Enjolras also regretted not having had the words to express his conflict, and letting indifference be his shield. He wished he had been braver, and confronted her about that letter privately. But he had been afraid to trust her too easily, to be biased once he heard her side of the story. Because her words always got to him, and her eyes told stories themselves. He had got lost in her eyes on a few occasions, and he had feared it then, thought it an imprudence. He wished he had been braver.

Enjolras solemly regretted the day when she was taken. He regretted not being alert, not fighting harder, not being enough. But what he regretted most were the scenarios he had imagined over time: what if he had kept quiet and she hadn't been rejected by the crew? He pictured she would still be with them now. He pictured how differently he would have treated her -now that he knew; how welcomed he would have made her feel. He pictured he would have told her how much she frightened him, not her name or reputation, but her; what she arose in him. 

 

...

 

Montparnasse had a fixation for her, Éponine had come to realize. Before she landed on Le Musain, she hadn't noticed how very gentle he was towards her, how differently he treated her from the rest of people. Éponine only saw it once she was dragged back to his side.

He was cruel, his mind twisted, his words sharp. But when they were alone he was also good-tempered, and ironic, and likeable. He left a bittersweet imprint on her everytime they talked. One moment he would tell her how rare she was, and the next he would beat her for making a wrong remark. He had the ability of making her laugh, making her forget how remarkably miserable her life there was. But then he would become a reminder himself. He would crawl into her bed and claim her. He would say that he loved her, and that she needed a reminder that she was loved, so she would never consider leaving them again. Éponine knew it was a punishment; but more than once she had let herself be fooled by his gentleness and believed his words -that he loved her. More than once she had ignored her lack of an alternative and almost enjoyed it. More than once, it had been Éponine herself who sought him.

It was twisted. It was wrong. It was crushing her soul little by little. But Montparnasse was the best she would ever have, now that her future was there. It somehow comforted her to think that he actually cared for her, that she was loved. Even if, deep down in her tattered heart, she knew it was a lie. Montparnasse was like a warm blanket that protected her from the cold nights, and at the same time, choked her with its frozen edges. 

But there would be no life beyond L'ombre. Montparnasse was the best Éponine would aspire to. Even if he was, at the same time, a living nightmare.

 

...

 

His nightmares sometimes got him to that moment in which he found the letter, and he failed her every time, again and again, just like he had in reality. Her voice asked him for help other times, but his dream self only heard threats.

 

They had been looking for them, they were always looking for them, had never stopped searching. Enjolras hoped to find her someday. If only to help her escape the life she dreaded. If only to make up for what he'd done.

 

But mostly, he hoped to feel her presence once more, and not just the ghost of it.

 

...

 

Éponine paced the deck as she cried, and holding onto the railing, she searched the horizon for a sign of the red flag. But there was only darkness. Immese darkness only interrupted by the stars in the sky. Éponine turned around and searched the deck franctically, looking for anything that she could use. But there were only ropes, nets and a dead body. And then she saw it.

Éponine kept crying as she reached for the plank that lay on the floor. It was big enough, it would have to do. She dragged the piece of wood through the deck and rested it against the railing. Then, she let it go and the plank sank into the water. Éponine held her breath as a tear ran down her cheek.

It seemed like an endless moment, but eventually, the plank resurfaced; and that was all Éponine needed. She got to the other side of the railing and jumped into the frozen water. She reached the plank and used it to keep afloat. And then she prayed. She prayed that it wouldn't sink. That she would somehow get to her friends, or them to her. Éponine prayed and cried as L'ombre kept its course, unaware of its missing member. Unaware of its dead one.

Éponine was terrified by the vastness of the sea, by the nothingness around her. But deep in her heart, she knew her tears were as much of relief, as they were of fear. 

 

...

 

Éponine drifted all night. She had barely survived the cold, her hopes were barely there anymore; she was lost at sea, just like the bottles she threw with letters inside. She wondered if someone would find them. If someone would read them. She wondered if someone would find her.

 

When she got sight of a ship on the horizon, Éponine grasped at the plank tightly, with all the strength she had left. The sun was shining in the sky, and she held onto the wood and waited, shaking from the cold but warm in her heart. There was a red flag. She had found them.

 

"Man in the water!" she heard someone shout. She hadn't noticed they had come so near, she must have dozed.

Éponine heard a splash of water not far from her, and then she saw a man approaching. He tied a rope around her waist. The rope hurt her where she had been cut, on her back, so she hissed in pain. "Don't worry, we got you" the man assured her. "Come on! Hoist now!"

Once she was on board of Le Musain, Éponine breathed peacefully, looking around. She couldn't recognise these men, but she breathed relieved, because she recognised the deck. She was home. She would live.

And then the air got sucked out of her lungs when two arms surrounded her, and she hissed in pain but she didn't push him away, because she had recognised his voice when he had shouted "Éponine!"

Éponine's eyes filled with tears as she held onto Grantaire, keeping him close, breathing him in. "Oh god" she heard him say against her hair, his voice shaking. "Oh god you're here. You're here." She sobbed against his shoulder and pulled at his hair, and she heard her name called from other people, but she couldn't let him go. She just needed to hold him close and make sure that he was real, that this moment was real and she wasn't dreaming. Or dead.

She felt another pair of arms close around them and opened her eyes to find Gavroche. She felt him so much bigger than the last time she'd seen him.

Then, Grantaire gasped and let her go. "Éponine, you're bleeding!" and she saw his hands red with her blood and the alarm in his eyes. She opened her mouth to let him know she was fine, but Éponine felt the world turn, and then she collapsed.

 

 


	11. The Shrine of Friendship

The murmur of voices somewhere near interrupted her peace. Éponine opened her eyes slowly, feeling very tired, and very hot. She was sweating.

"Hey, welcome back" Prouvaire said by her side. Éponine saw the smile on his face and smiled back. She felt about to cry again. 

"How long have I slept?" she asked, her voice hoarse. 

"Not enough, just a few hours" he replied, a look of concern on his face, "You're sick, and injured. You need to rest."

Then the murmur of voices stopped, and Éponine saw two figures approaching. "How are you feeling?" Grantaire asked, standing behind Prouvaire. Éponine saw Courfeyrac at his side and smiled at him. "I'm hot" she replied weakly.

"Gods, you still think too high of yourself, I see" Grantaire joked. Éponine smiled and cried, because she wasn't strong enough to laugh. She felt a hand against her forehead and noticed it was Courfeyrac's. "You have a fever" he explained, "you should get some rest Éponine."

"I don't think I can sleep now. But I could use some water."

Courfeyrac left for a moment and came back with a cup in his hand. Prouvaire helped her sit up, and then she felt the comfort as the water downed her throat. Once she was lying on her side again, Courfeyrac asked: "How long were you in the water?"

Éponine shook her head, "I don't know. A big part of the night, and then some part of the day."

"How did you end up there?" Prouvaire asked this time, and Éponine saw the man's empty eyes staring back at her. She couldn't talk about that, not yet.

"I heard your ship was near and I needed to get away, so I jumped." 

It was the best she could give them for now; the rest would come when she felt stronger, when she'd had time to think about it. The three of them shared a look of concern, maybe pondering if they should ask about the slash that crossed her back. Prouvaire seemed to decide to postpone that conversation.

"You could've died, you know?" he said, "It's a miracle you survived."

"No miracles" Éponine said, "I'm just too stubborn to die." They smiled, and she felt better just from that sight. "I've missed you all so much. I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice broke, and a sob escaped her, and Éponine closed her eyes because she was so tired of crying. 

She felt a hand rubbing her arm, and another taking the hair away from her face. It had grown so long since she had last seen them. She opened her eyes and found concern in her friends' eyes. Éponine willed herself to stop crying, but she couldn't. She didn't remember what it felt like to have somebody worry about her tears. Nobody had cared for so long. 

"Hey, you found us again 'Ponine" Grantaire said, an unfamiliar stinge of sadness clouded his eyes, but he was smiling nonetheless. "And we will make sure you stay here. As long as you'll have us."

"None of that" Courfeyrac said, with a joyful smirk, "You're stuck with us now, young lady" he warned her. She held onto his words like her life depended on it, she let them settle inside her, and she felt a little lighter. "You can't escape us. We'll tie you to the prow and use you as a figurehead if you even think about leaving."

Éponine nodded in agreement, and dried the tears from her cheeks. "Aye captain" she joked, and she heard chuckles. "How long has it been anyway? Surely more than a year."

"Two years and four months" Courfeyrac replied, a sad smile on his lips, ready for another joke, which was uttered so solemly that none of them laughed, "I guess. It's not like I've been keeping count..."

Éponine heard Prouvaire sobbing as he stood up and left. 

"It's been a long day" Grantaire excused him, "you should try to sleep now. And we'll talk when you wake up."

"Alright" she agreed, but she held onto his hand, and he understood. 

Grantaire remained there, waiting for Éponine to fall asleep. And once she was, he still remained there, because he had missed her. He had also feared that he would never see her again. It had been more than two years, but she was finally back home.

 

 

 

When Éponine woke up she found no one in the room. Her throat felt raspy, and her limbs hurt from lying there for who knows how long. The gash on her back itched, but it didn't hurt, and the fever seemed to be gone. Éponine sat up and contemplated her options as she waited for the world to stop spinning.

She wanted to get out and wander the ship, find her friends and just spend her time with them... but the ship was now full of men she didn't know -she had noticed a lot of strange faces when they rescued her. And, on the other hand, she was afraid of finding her friends only to notice some of them missing. She wasn't ready to face something like that, but she couldn't stop thinking about it either. So far she had only seen Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Gavroche and Prouvaire. But what of Feuilly? Where was Marius? And Bahorel, Bossuet, Combeferre? What about Enjolras? They were her family too, in one way or another... what if one of them hadn't made it? What if some of them hadn't? 

Éponine got rid of the blanket that had been covering her, and put on the clean shirt they had left for her. Just as she was adjusting the sleeves over her forearms, the door of the sickbay opened and Marius walked in. Éponine stared at him for a second, and then he was rushing to meet her and embrace her in a gentle hug. She held him tightly, and felt her heart become a little lighter; there was one less person to worry about. 

"Oh, Éponine, I'm so glad you're fine" he told her, as he took a good look at her, making sure she was recovered. 

Éponine smiled gratefully and patted his arm, "It's good to see you're well too."

"I was coming to see if you needed anything, but you're on your feet!" he said excitedly. "If you're well enough, we better go and get you something to eat, there's still people who want to see you."

The girl nodded and followed Marius through the stairs. He seemed hesitant, and kept looking back at her as they walked, but said nothing. It was making Éponine nervous; adding to her fear that she would find someone missing among their friends. When he looked back at her for the third time, Éponine asked him to stop. 

"What is it?" 

Marius frowned as he contemplated something, but then he squared his jaw and said: "I wanted to ask you... Do you know anything about Cosette?" he looked worried, of course, but then his eyes fell to his feet and his expression turned sheepish, as if he was ashamed of bothering her at such moment.

It was a question she had been expecting, and dreading. It was time to share what she knew, and it wouldn't be a joyful conversation. 

Éponine bit her lip as she glanced over his shoulder. There, at the kitchen, she could see people sitting at tables while they conversed. Éponine sighed and, then, she answered in almost a murmur "I do." She cleared her throat and saw the conflict in Marius' eyes -hope and fear colliding-, and decided that she couldn't go through that more than once. 

"I know something, but can we get everybody together first?" she pleaded, and Marius nodded, almost automatically, like he was assimilating her words slowly. "Of course." He turned and continued walking, and she followed close behind, until they were standing in the middle of the room, and everyone fell silent.

Éponine scanned the tables, looking for familiar faces. She found them when Bahorel stood up and paced the room to greet her with a hug. She smiled against his shoulder and whispered "have mercy on my back, Bahorel, or you'll have to fix me up again." Her own words caused her to flinch, for it made her wonder who was in charge of the sickbay now that Joly was... She would have to tell them about him too. 

Bahorel smiled, but rapidly eased his hold on her, "You better stay away from that sickbay for a while, and care about us instead" he answered. 

They made their way towards a table on the far corner, where she was greeted by Bossuet and Feuilly. The girl crossed their names out of her mental list, relieved. Once she sat down, Éponine was given food and wine, as the others assured her how good it felt to have her back. The room was again filled with conversation. 

Just as Éponine finished her meal, Combeferre and Enjolras walked in. She let a breath out, as her chest filled with joy at the sight of the rest of her friends. 

"Éponine!" Combeferre exclaimed, as he rushed towards their table. 

Éponine stood up just in time to be held again, and it felt so good. In less than one hour she had been the recipient of more love than in the past two years. She was overwhelmed, and a tear inevitably escaped her when Combeferre let her go and she saw the happiness in his eyes. "I'm so delighted to see you here. Finally!" he told her, and it made her smile. 

When Combeferre stepped aside, Enjolras was right behind. Éponine looked at him as she wiped her eyes and noticed there was something strange in the way he held himself. It wasn't stoic, or proud, like she had been used to seeing him long ago. The Enjolras in front of her resembled more a man than a statue, and although that would have been thought of as a good sign before, she couldn't help but feel it strange. By his posture, Éponine got the impression that, for some reason, he wished to make himself smaller.

But she couldn't give it a second thought, because there was a timid smile on his lips, and his ever serious eyes were looking at her expectantly, as if he wasn't sure what to do about her. Éponine closed the distance and threw her arms around him. To her surprise, he held her too, just a little bit too tightly. 

"Welcome back" he said once they separated. And Éponine felt she was right where she was supposed to be: back at home, wrapped in their love. For the first time in a long time, she felt somewhere near to complete. 

 

 

 

Once they had all settled around the table, the questioning began. 

"Éponine, you know we are all incredibly happy to have you back. But before anything else, I need to ask what everyone else is wondering" Combeferre looked around, waiting for approval. He received a general nod and focused on the girl as he cleared his throat, "Where are Joly and Cosette? What happened after you were taken?"

Éponine was nervous. She had hoped to talk about that later, when she'd had the time to consider the best way to tell them. But she saw their anxious faces, waiting for an answer, and she understood there was no easy way to utter her next words. So she just bit her lip, and started talking.

"After we were taken that day, we remained prisoners on that ship for some time. I don't know how long; the place where they put us had no light, and they didn't give us food regularly... All I know is the three of us were together during that time. And then, we weren't." 

 

...

_The meeting took place on some island. Éponine didn't know where, or which tongue they spoke there. She let herself be dragged through the port until they found L'ombre du Mer._

_Her pulse was fast, she could feel her heart thrumming in her chest, and how weak her legs were._

_Weaker with every step._

_Weaker as they boarded the ship._

_Those men had barely fed her during her time with them. She didn't know how long it had been, but now she felt weak, as if her body weighed too much, as if her bones had grown heavy during the journey. Her energy was gone. It was all focused on keeping her heart beating. Her mind was blank; there was only fear there._

_Then she caught sight of him._

_Montparnasse received her with a threatening smirk and a hug that had her trembling. "I'm so glad you're back, Éponine" he whispered in her ear. And her mind shouted in terror, as her mouth was too numb to utter an answer._

_..._

 

Éponine looked at the people surrounding her and she found concern in every frown; expectant eyes. She squeezed her hands together as she went on, "One day we reached some island and they got me out of their ship. Cosette and Joly were left behind. They delievered me to Patron-Minette, as they said they would, and then they left. I never saw neither Joly or Cosette again after that."

"So you know nothing?" Prouvaire asked. Éponine nodded.

"I heard things. While on their ship, they used to remind us how lucky they were to have found us. They said Joly would remain with them, since they didn't have a doctor. They said they'd have the favor of Patron-Minette, thanks to me. And they said they would get a great sum for Cosette... They intended to sell her to a brothel in Nassau."

Her words were followed by the silent shock of the people gathered, as they assimilated the fates that had befallen Cosette and Joly. There were muffled curses, and Marius seemed to be in another place, out of the room, as his wide opened eyes stared at the table. 

"Do you think she is still there?" Enjolras broke the silence. Éponine focused on him when she nodded. "She might be. We must at least try to find her there."

"We  _will_ find her" Marius resolved. Éponine got the feeling that he had repeated those words like a mantra before, probably every single day. He was still in love, she guessed; after all this time. He had made a promise -Éponine had to remind herself-, back when they had improvised a marriage on a foreign beach with the sole company of their crew. 

"Of course we'll find her" Bossuet added, clasping Marius' shoulder with a strong grip. "If she's not there, we'll keep looking; but at least we have a place to start."

"It's more than we've had so far" Grantaire agreed.

"What about Joly?" Combeferre asked. "Is it possible he is still with that crew?"

 

...

_Éponine walked into the kitchen and asked Babet for her ration. He gave her a bowl of soup and she sat at the table where Gueulemer and her father were eating and discussing something. She ate in silence and ignored the conversation. Until she recognised some words and was inevitably drawn to some news._

_"Are you certain?" her father asked. "Le Brume is a fine ship."_

_"Even the finest ships can be sank, Thénardier," Gueulemer said, "The royal ships are getting more dangerous. Le Brume shouldn't have wandered so close to the bay."_

_"What were they thinking, those gits. They were..."_

_Éponine didn't hear anymore. She couldn't. She had just noticed what words had called her attention: Le Brume._

_Le Brume was the name of the ship that had boarded Le Musain._

_It was the captain of Le Brume who had taken her away from her friends._

_It was in Le Brume that Joly had remained._

_And it had sank._

_Éponine stood up and left the soup. She reached the deck and her chest grew heavy, too heavy for her to keep steady. It was the first bit of news she got about any of them, and it was shattering._

_Joly was gone._

_She cried for him alone, wondering if anybody else had._

...

 

Éponine moved uncomfortably on her seat, ready for the next blow she would have to deliver to her friends.

"Some time ago, I don't know how long exactly... I heard the crew of L'ombre talking about a ship that the royal navy had sunk. It was their ship. The one which boarded us. The ship where Joly stayed." 

It took them a while to grasp what Éponine had told them. They stared at the girl as if she hadn't finished, as if there was a lost part she'd forgotten to explain. She felt the grief for Joly's death come back to her, hit her hard, and she blinked to stop the tears. 

But there was no stopping the gloomy feeling that settled in the room, as one by one, the men took in her words and realisation struck them. 

"Are you certain it was them?" Enjolras asked, his voice breaking for the first time since she had met him, his expression bordering anger and sorrow.

"I can never forget the name of that ship," she replied, running away from the strength of Enjolras' eyes fixed on her. "Le Brume. I'm certain it was them."

After that, they forgot about the present. They turned to each other for comfort, grieving their friend, wondering if there was any possibility that he could still be alive somewhere. Éponine watched them cry, and hit the tables and walls, and scream at the ceilings. They had been chasing a ghost all along. 

She mourned with them, because it still hurt her too; the thought that she would never see the light in Joly's eyes, or his constant muttering, or his nervous pacing, or his soft hands. He had left a whole in their crew that could never be replaced, and would take a long time to heal. If it ever did.

 

 

That night the crew gathered on the deck. They sat and drank together. They drank for him, and the life they'd shared. They told stories about Joly, and relived their memories with him. They said their goodbyes, even if it was a little too late. 


	12. Guilt

Éponine heard a dry knock on her door and jolted awake. She stumbled through the quarter in the dark and opened the door to find Enjolras waiting. 

"Enjolras? Something happened?" she asked, taken aback, as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the palm of her hand. 

The man cleared his throat and gave her an apologetic look, "I wanted to talk to you, but maybe it's not the right time..."

"Oh, come on inside" she said, shaking her head, "you already woke me anyway."

Éponine made her way to the barrel beside the bed and lit the candle on top of it. That night she had slept in the cabin that used to be Cosette's. Her friends had unanimously made her stay there the previous night, and she hadn't been able to refuse the comfort of a matress and the privacy of the room. She didn't need privacy from her friends, none at all; but currently there were more than twenty other men travelling with them, and after the last few years, she had not wanted to be surrounded by so many strangers. It made her uncomfortable, the quantity of people that now inhabited Le Musain, but as Combeferre had explained, their revolution had grown in the last years. And that was good, she knew it. But she couldn't help the feeling of discomfort at being among strangers in the place she considered home. It made her feel a little out of place.

She heard the door closing and turned to find Enjolras awkwardly standing there. 

"Take a seat" she offered, patting the bed as she herself sat, and entwined her cold feet so that only one of them touched the floor. Enjolras obeyed and sat beside her. His face was blank of any emotion, and Éponine wondered what could he possibly want from her. 

"What did you want to talk about?" 

Enjolras turned slightly to face her, "Yesterday, with all that happened with Joly and Cosette... well, we didn't get to hear what happened to you. I was wondering if you would tell." 

Éponine noticed his worry, there was no doubting that. But there was something else underneath, a feeling that he was either hiding from her, or didn't know how to bring out.

"What would you like to know?" she questioned, unsure of how much she should trust to him. She wished she would have had the time to speak with Grantaire first. She confided in him more than anyone else, and it was him who she felt would understand -and console her- best. She wasn't sure how much of her story Enjolras should hear. They had a history of distrust, and she feared that if she revealed too much, maybe he would find a brand new reason to suspect her. 

"How did you escape?" he asked, staring intently, searching her face for a reaction. Éponine had forgotten how intimidating he could be, how inspected his gaze could make her feel. But that didn't stop her from shivering at the memory of that night. And he noticed.

"It wasn't planned... I hadn't even thought of escaping before that night, because it seemed impossible" Éponine cleared her throat and turned her gaze toward the wall, where she didn't have the need to convince his eyes of her every word. And because, once again, she was opening up to Enjolras about something nobody else knew. It felt too intimate to be exposed like that, but somehow, she didn't feel uncomfortable about it. "I wrote letters, back at L'ombre," she started, recalling the sound of the quill against paper, "They didn't allow me to have anything, but they let me write. And I wrote letters to all of you, telling about my day, pretending I would get a response... I threw them into the ocean inside a bottle, while everyone was sleeping" Éponine shook her head, an embarrased grin on her lips, "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it made me feel better. It was a way of staying sane... Of not losing what little hope I had left of ever getting out of there."

Éponine took a moment to inspect the room: the familiar walls, its creaking floor, the bed where she had laid next to Cosette reading a book. She still found it hard to believe, that she was there. It was so different, from her life at L'ombre. Éponine surveyed the room in fear that it was all but an illusion that would suddenly shatter, bringing her back to that ship, to living miserably. 

"That night I had thrown another bottle into the water" she resumed, still avoiding his eyes, "I was walking back to my cabin when I heard two of them talking about Le Musain. They said they had spotted it that day, but that they couldn't turn back and fight, there were too many of you. And then they discovered me. And I ran away" she concluded, unable to let out the full story at that moment. She wasn't ready for him to hear, to see the hesitation in his eyes when he discovered her a murderer. And she wasn't ready to cope with it either. "I grabbed a plank and threw it into the sea. And then I jumped too, hoping that you would find me. And you did." 

Éponine dared to look at the man next to her, and she found confusion in his eyes. He wasn't inspecting her as she had assumed; he was just looking at her, assimilating her story, taking in her words. He believed her, she could see that. But she didn't understand his sudden coolness, the way he didn't seem worried anymore, but... disappointed.

"Why do you not trust me?" he asked, taking her by surprise.

"What?"

"There is more. The cut that crosses your back... how did you get it?"

Éponine lowered her eyes, ashamed that she had forgotten about that.

"I do trust you," she replied sincerely, "but it's not something easy to talk about. It frightens me to think about it" she searched for his eyes, gathering the courage to get defensive, "and it frightens me even more that you will use it as another excuse to not trust me. That's what you really came here for, right? An interrogation."

"No" he said, stern. And then the crease on his forehead softened, his jaw relaxed, his eyes shone with resolution. "What I really came here for is to tell you that I'm sorry."

Éponine wasn't expecting that, so the look on her face was question enough for him to explain. 

"I'm sorry, Éponine" he said, hurt. "Ever since the day you were taken I have felt this guilt inside me, haunting me. I should have trusted you, I shouldn't have told everyone about that letter... If I hadn't, things would have been different. You wouldn't have had to go back there, you wouldn't have that slash on your back, and you wouldn't have had to live whatever horrible thing happened there." Every word he said was uttered with such... rawness, that she felt his guilt deep inside her. Éponine noticed a tightness in her throat; she herself had tried to blame him long ago too, and it shocked her to know that he had been carrying around that guilt for years. "I'm sorry that I failed you this much" he continued, his eyes conveying every one of his words, "I regretted not trusting you, every single day. And I am determined to not make the same error again." His voice sounded resolute, but a tear rolled down his cheek.

Éponine let go of the breath she'd been holding, and shook her head. "Nothing of what happened was your fault" she told him. Enjolras seemed puzzled. There was a storm inside those eyes: its blue, shadowed by torment; a spark of light, speaking of hope. Éponine reached for his hand, willing the light to reign. "I blamed you for a while too, or at least I tried. I wanted to hate you. But in my head, I knew I was just looking for a scapegoat. It didn't feel fair, to make you responsible for things that were beyond your control. They would've found me anyway." As she stared into those eyes, Éponine felt something change. Not in him, but between them. Although she couldn't tell what exactly. "You did something wrong, it's true. But it's also true that you did it because you thought you were protecting the crew. I don't blame you for that."

"I did things wrong because I was a coward" he said, convinced of his every word, the meaning of which Éponine didn't understand, "I didn't want to be fooled. I was afraid of how captivated I was, how easily your words left me out of arguments. I didn't trust myself. I didn't trust you. But it won't happen again, Éponine. I want you to know that."

Éponine couldn't hide her astonishment at the passion that filled his words, like he deeply believed in them. It was the same fiery passion that showed whenever he talked about a better future, and Éponine could only believe him. Her mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. After a moment, Enjolras relaxed his posture, and wiped his cheek. He seemed to recompose, as if he had let himself be carried away and was only then realizing it. His eyes were still set on her when he spoke, in a lower voice this time.

"I understand if you don't want to share what happened; but please, stop lying. There's no need for that anymore." 

"Alright" Éponine murmured. Enjolras inspected her face for a moment, and then he slipped his hand from hers and looked away.

"I'm sorry for waking you up" he said, standing firmly on his feet, "But I needed you to know. You can count on me now. I won't fail you again."

"Thank you" Éponine answered, as she watched him walk for the door. "And Enjolras?" he turned and looked at her, "Please, don't wake me up again."

He smiled and left the room. Éponine laid her head on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. As she thought about their conversation, it inadvertently hit her, how much she had missed his voice.

 

 

 

"Your hair's longer" Grantaire pointed out that evening. They were keeping watch in the crow's nest. Or rather, she was keeping watch while he kept her company, since Éponine knew it was impossible for him to notice anything on the horizon when his head was tilted back and his eyes were set on the sky.

"Yes, Grantaire. That's what usually happens to hair: it grows." 

"Will you cut it again?" he asked after a while. 

"I haven't thought about it. Why?" 

"You should cut it again. It suited you."

"I looked like a boy" she reminded him. He chuckled.

"You still do. But now you've got bad hair."

Éponine kicked his side, but knew his words were true. She had never had pretty hair.

"Any other thing you would like me to change?"

"Your story" he said, taking her by surprise. " _And then I ran away and jumped?_  Come on, 'Ponine; you used to be a better liar."

Éponine clenched her jaw and scanned the horizon. The sky was turning orange, soon it would be dark. She wondered how long it would take Montparnasse to get to her. He would kill her this time, she knew. And yet, it didn't frighten her as much as what he would do to the rest of them. They were weaker now, without Claquesous; but the fewer they were, the more ruthless they turned. 

Éponine sighed once she decided to tell Grantaire the truth. She knew he would understand, but it was still painful to think about. She felt that once she said it aloud, once somebody knew, it would become realer.

"Claquesous caught me listening" she began, trying to keep the memories from that night at bay, but it seemed impossible, she saw it as if it was happening all over again. 

...

_As she walked back to her cabin, Éponine heard voices on deck. She didn't want to be seen, as she had managed to keep secret her late night walks so far. So she crouched down and melted in the shadows of the stairs that led to the upper deck. She hid there, and, since there was nothing else to do, she listened._

_"You saw, you saw... so what? What can nine men do against a crew of fifty, uh?" it was Claquesous who spoke, and he seemed angry. "I don't give a shit about Montparnasse or his grudge against them, we are not turning back."_

_There was silence then, but Éponine could hear the weak sound of someone gasping._

_"Am I clear?" Claquesous again. Whoever the other was, Éponine guessed he had nodded, because he took a deep breath, and then she heard his steps getting away. "Keep your mouth shut, Babet" the other man threatened. "You didn't see those bastards Amis. If somebody hears, your head will be the first to board them."_

_As the man's steps faded, Éponine held her breath and placed a hand over her mouth; if she didn't, she was afraid a cry for help may escape it._

_They had spotted Le Musain._

_Her friends were following them, maybe unknowingly (for who'd be such a fool to try and chase L'ombre?), but they were close all the same. Would they hear, if she screamed? Would her voice be loud enough? Could it be, that there was hope for her? That she wasn't doomed to this sorry excuse of a life?_

_Éponine felt suddenly too much._ _All of a sudden her hands were trembling with fear, her heart was thrumming with joy, and her head felt dizzy from the mix. And then, she felt a pressure against her shoulder, and she was dragged out of the darkness._

_"You piece of shit, were you spying on us?" Claquesous whispered, his fingers harshly grasping her arm. Éponine shook her head and hissed at the pain._

_"Let go!" she grunted, and she punched him. But it wasn't strong enough. Claquesous was way too big for her. He squared his jaw and slapped her, making her head turn, sending her to the floor a few feet away. Éponine cried in pain, as she had landed on her wrist. In the darkness, she heard the hiss of metal being drawn from its case and looked up to see Claquesous nearing her, glaring at her._

_Éponine got up and ran clumsily around the deck. She was unarmed, they didn't let her have anything, so there was no way she could defend herself right then. Claquesous was close behind as Éponine ran up the stairs, towards the upper deck. There were only ropes around, nothing she could use as a weapon._

_"You're done, Thénardier" the man grunted as he threw the sword against Éponine. She dodged it and kicked his ankle, but there was no use, he didn't fall, so she was running away again. "We should have killed you long ago." Éponine ran through the deck and picked up a piece of wood she spotted on the floor. Claquesous caught up to her, and Éponine felt a sting of pain across her back, where his sword had reached her. She flung the wooden board in the air when she turned around abruptly, hitting his face. Claquesous stumbled backwards and his sword fell from his hand. Éponine grabbed it without a second thought._

_One minute, the blade was on the floor. The next, it was buried in the man's chest._

_Éponine covered his mouth to prevent any shouts. She covered it for a long time, even after he stopped fighting; for long, even after he was gone._ _She drew her hand away, alarmed, once she noticed. Éponine saw the man's empty eyes staring at the stars. And then she panicked._

_Éponine paced the deck as she cried, and holding onto the railing, she searched the horizon for a sign of a red flag, but there was only darkness. Immese darkness only interrupted by the stars in the sky. Éponine turned around and searched the deck franctically, looking for anything that she could use. But there were only ropes, nets and a dead body. And then she saw it._

_Éponine kept crying as she reached for the plank that lay on the floor. It was big enough, it would have to do. She dragged the piece of wood through the deck and rested it against the railing. Then, she let it go and the plank sank into the water. Éponine held her breath as a tear ran down her cheek._

...

"He wouldn't let me go, so I hit him. And then he hit me, and I tried to run away." Éponine didn't need to see him, to know that Grantaire was now looking at her, probably with an unsual serious face that didn't suit him at all. "He had a sword, he wanted to kill me. He almost did. He gave me that cut on my back. But I fought him, and he dropped the sword, so I took it."

She let the silence tell the end of it, because she couldn't. Éponine drew her knees to her chest and held them tight. She buried her face there, as she saw Claquesous' dead eyes. They were everywhere. Then she felt an arm around her shoulders, and Grantaire's body by her side.

"The fact that you feel horrified by what you did, is proof enough that you shouldn't feel guilty about it."

"I killed him Grantaire" she cried. "I'm not different than them."

"There's an ocean standing between those men and you" he told her, his voice calm, reassuring, "both literally and figuratively. You are nothing like them Éponine. Don't ever think that. You killed him because you had to, it was him or you. And maybe it'll sound terrible, but I'm glad it was him."

Éponine wiped her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, thinking about his words. "It does sound terrible" she said after a while. Grantaire snorted. "It frightens me, Grantaire. What they are capable of doing. What I am capable of doing."

The boy rubbed her arm reassuringly, "You survived. That's what you did. There is nothing about it that should frighten you."

She nodded in agreement, and buried her face deeper into his shoulder. Now that the truth was out, it did feel realer, but, to her surprise, it also made her feel better. 

"Was that the only time you feared for your life? While you were there?" Grantaire asked. She didn't want to lie again, so she mentally cursed him for asking such a question. 

"No" she said dryly, hoping he would notice the glacier in her voice, and leave it there. 

Grantaire's hand left her arm and caressed her head instead. _Just hold on_ , he seemed to be asking her.

"I'm sorry that that happened to you. You don't deserve it" he told her. "You are a good person, Éponine. Even if you have done bad things; we all have, at some point. Let the guilt go. I know it's a stupid thing to ask, it's not like you can control what you feel... but don't hold onto that for too long, okay? You deserve to be happy."

Éponine didn't know what to say to that, she was speechless. Amazed. Grantaire was dead serious about his words, he truly thought she was good, that she deserved good things; and at that moment, Éponine wondered what on earth had she ever done to deserve that man in her life.

"Thank you" she said, and she noticed his head nodding in acknowledgement. Éponine sighed and set her eyes on the horizon again, taking in the beautiful sight and his presence beside her. "Can we go back to mocking my hair now?" she pleaded, earning a laugh from him. 


	13. Light Among the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for the mini spoiler, but WARNING: mentions of torture and rape.

They had been sailing towards Nassau for a week, and according to Combeferre, they would lay eyes on its shore in a couple more days. The mood on board of Le Musain was exactly as she remembered: busy men set on finishing their tasks, juvenile laughter filling the deck, maps laying over the tables as they planned future assaults.

Éponine had easily regained her place among her friends, keeping them company, helping on their duties, telling them about her time away, and asking about theirs. She kept her answers short and clean though, in a way that she felt like she was writing those letters again, only letting them know the good parts, insinuating that some things had been bad, but never shedding enough light on them. What was the use of telling anyway? It was best to keep those bits of the story to herself, so no one could see how damaged she was. So the pity in their eyes wouldn't remind her.

 

The deck was quiet that night, so much that Éponine could perfectly hear the murmur of men talking a few floors below. She had felt so overwhelmed by the crowded kitchen that she had sneaked past it, skipping dinner and the company of her friends. Instead, she had sat on the floor by the helm, letting the cool breeze ease her mind. 

She had been sitting there for a while when she heard someone calling to her.

"Up here" the voice informed her, and Éponine tilted her head to catch sight of Enjolras leaning over the railing of the crow's nest. "Why are you out here alone?"

"Too much people down there" she answered. "Wasn't Marius supposed to keep watch tonight?"

"I asked him to change turns. His head is in Nassau already, I bet he hasn't slept in days." 

There was a silence then, as Éponine recalled how restless Marius had looked in the past few days. But who could blame him, when a reunion with his wife was imminent and he had no idea of the estate in which Cosette would be.  _She could be dead by now_ , Éponine thought, and it sent a chill down her spine.

"Éponine?" Enjolras called. Éponine looked up at him again as he asked "Would you maybe keep me company?"

Éponine thought it bizarre, to spend some time with Enjolras all by themselves. But maybe this was only natural, after their last conversation. Maybe they could finally reach the point of true friendship and camaradery after all their disagreements. Éponine climbed her way to the crow's nest, and once there, she leaned her back on the railing, next to the man. Silence didn't last long.

"Can I ask you a question? Without you getting offended?" she said. Enjolras nodded and waited expectantly. "Do you really believe you can overthrow a king?"

Enjolras sighed. He was offended by the question, but he had the kindness of not showing that any further.

"Of couse I believe it" he stated firmly, "It has been done before. Don't you believe we can? That the people can?"

"I like the idea" Éponine admitted, "But I find it hard to believe that I will live to see it come true. It doesn't feel like it will happen anytime soon."

"It will. France is waking up, the people are willing to fight."

"What wills you to fight?" she asked suddenly, not really thinking about her words. "You are a bourgeois. Or were. Not many of those care for the poor at all."

Enjolras stared at her for a moment, considering the question. "That is exactly what wills me. Knowing that some people have more than they will ever need, while others have nothing at all." He turned his body so he was facing her. Éponine listened attentively. "Growing up, I saw the indifference with which those around me treated the lower class, and it made me wonder where it came from. Why were they looking to the other side? Why did some think themselves to be above others? Who had set those rules? And when I went to Paris, I discovered how much worse the situation was. The country was dying slowly, and the king was sitting in his throne doing nothing about it, only making it worse. It was unfair. A leader is supposed to take care of their people so they will continue to follow them, not make them follow just because of some archaic birth right to power."

Éponine smiled at the progression of his speech. There was no hiding his passion, not even in casual conversation.

"Louis-Philippe is no leader then, just a king." Enjolras seemed amused at her words, his lips slightly tilted on one side. " _You_ are a good leader" Éponine told him, admitting it maybe for the first time aloud. "Look at all the people that follow you now."

"Not me" he corrected, "we're not following people, we're following ideals. And anyway, every one of Les Amis deserve credit for the number of people who have joined us, not just me."

"Even Grantaire?" Éponine joked. 

"Even Grantaire" Enjolras admitted.

There was silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. At some point, Éponine's were interrupted by his voice.

"Éponine, can I ask you something? Without you getting offended?" 

His recall of her previous words made her snort. She nodded, just as he had done before. Enjolras stared for a moment before uttering his question, as if he wasn't sure how to say it.

"Did they beat you?"

Éponine was taken aback. That was not a question she had been expecting, and she rapidly changed her position so she was looking towards the sea, away from him. She felt her pulse accelerating, her throat getting tighter, anxiety gaining control. Why would he ask such a thing? Was it another interrogation? Even after he had promised he would trust her? 

"Éponine?" he said, and she heard it as if she were underwater. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and then turned her eyes to him. He looked worried, but his jaw was set firm. He wouldn't yield.

"You know the answer, why bother asking?" she replied, annoyed.

Éponine saw indecision in his eyes, as he analysed what she had just admitted. "If I don't ask, you'll never tell" he said apologetic. Then, his voice was soft, serious, "There's something different in your eyes. It haunts you. And you laugh less now." His words were uttered rapidly, but he took time to order his thoughts between sentences. He seemed nervous, worried, as he went on: "It's changed you. I want to understand how; so I can help you get over it."

Éponine's eyebrows arched slightly. It was once again a shock to notice that the man in front of her actually worried about her. It made her heart feel warm, but at the same time, it brought about a heaviness inside it.

"Maybe Courfeyrac's jokes are just getting worse" she tried to lighten the mood. Enjolras smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

Éponine had thought about it, what he was asking of her. She had thought about keeping that chapter of her existence buried, hidden in the shadows that inhabited her heart. Maybe that way she could ignore it, pretend it wasn't a part of herself, for it was a part nobody would care to see anyway. Nobody would ever care so much as to concern themselves with that ugly corner of her heart.

But he did. He was doing just that, asking her to let him see. To let him help somehow. 

"Did they torture you?" He asked then, and Éponine heard the steel in his voice. He was having a hard time, just as she was. And she wondered if she would-once again- open up to him. Somehow, it was always Enjolras she showed more of herself to. It occurred to her that, maybe, there had been a camaradery between them long ago, way before she was taken. She decided to let him know, although she wasn't sure in which manner he intended to help her get over it -if there was even a possibility of that.

"A few times, after I got back." Éponine got chills just at the sound of the waves hitting the ship. It made her lungs weaker, and her throat hurt to think about it. She caught sight of Enjolras' hands tightening their grip on the railing. "They used water. It felt like drowning. It was something they used to do to get information, but they had no questions for me; it was a punishment."

Éponine felt as if she might begin to cry, but her eyes were dry. Maybe she had used up all of her tears already. She felt Enjolras' hand brush against her cheek, as he carefully placed a lock of hair out of her face.

"That's despicable. I'm sorry you had to go through that." His voice was but a murmur, but still Éponine heard the rage in his tone, even if he was restraining it. "It will never happen to you again. I promise."

Éponine lifted her eyes to look at him, "You cannot promise that. You can't control what they do. Or others."

"But I can keep them away. We all can. You are safe here."

Éponine had a sharp comment at the tip of her tongue, but she let it slip back down her throat. There was a glimmer in his eyes, he meant every word. Who was her to crush his good intentions, as futile as they were? Was it worth it, to turn their moment of confidences into one of their old fights? So, instead, she joined his fantasy for a minute, and let herself think that she would be safe there, that Patron-Minette would never reach her as long as she remained in her safe place. It actually eased her mind, even if it was an empty hope.

"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" she said, inspecting his face. Enjolras waited for her to continue, so she took a deep breath and sadly smiled at him, "I don't wish for their deaths. I have wished for them, but it has felt wrong, like it would sadden me." There they were, Claquesous' empty eyes, dead. "Maybe I spent too much time with them."

Enjolras didn't give her an answer for that. Instead, he asked another question, after a moment absorbed in his thoughts.

 "Did they force themselves on you?" 

The picture in Éponine's mind changed. The eyes of her victim suddenly came to life. They were Montparnasse's eyes now, wicked and loving at the same time. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. I have seen people mistake abuse for love. I'm afraid the contradiction in your eyes has something to do with that." 

Éponine shrugged and stared at the ocean. She couldn't stand the look on his face, all concern and anger and pity, mixed together in shades of blue.

"Montparnasse" she admitted. A chill ran through her body at the mention of his name. 

She felt once more the urge to cry, but there were no tears. Her chest felt too tight. Perhaps her feelings were all bottled up in there, and could not make it to her eyes. But then, his hand held hers over the railing, and Éponine looked at Enjolras beside her. And suddenly, it felt like some passageway had been opened inside her. She began to cry. Éponine sobbed as she closed the distance and held tightly onto him. She felt his hand, reassuringly cradling her head, and she heard words coming out of his mouth, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. It didn't matter. There was something lighter about her chest. The feelings and memories were still darkening a part of her heart, but there was a spot of light among them, illuminating them. And with light shed upon, they didn't seem so terribly irreparable.

 

 

 

They reached Nassau the following day. 

The whole crew was on edge, for Nassau wasn't a safe place to be, not when there was a bounty on their heads; not when Patron-Minette was likely chasing after them too. So they decided to split in three groups of seven to search for Cosette, while the rest of the crew would gather supplies and stay alert for possible threats. 

Nassau was a remarkable place, not in its beauty, but in its life. There was a constant flow of pirates always going and coming, sometimes even staying. The island had grown to be the one safe place which the navy didn't dare to defy. The pirates had made their claim on that piece of land, and there was no stealing from a pirate, let alone hundreds. And in the absence of the law, brothels ruled in Nassau. For every pirate Éponine spotted, there were two women. They were everywhere: trying food at the market, fishing in the port, strolling the unpaved streets with their heads held high. Pirates roamed the island, but it was the whores it belonged to.

The place they walked into was a decaying house, which had once been the home of a wealthy family, no doubt. There, right under the grime, one could glimpse its former beauty in the intricate wallpapers and weathered lamps. But before their eyes, all that they could see were stained walls and drunkards. Their ears were filled with the squaling noise of a piano, and their nostrils with the smell of a recently cooked meal. The place was crowded, and so they decided to split to better search for Cosette.

Combeferre and Grantaire would search the present room; Courfeyrac headed for the bar to try to get some information; Bossuet, Bahorel and Prouvaire went up the stairs, where the rooms were. Éponine walked past the bar and went out into a backdoor patio. The place was quieter than inside, but still full of people. Looking up, she noticed doors on the floor above, and guessed there were more rooms than expected. After scanning the patio and failing to find any sign of the girl, Éponine walked toward the stairs and began her way up to the first floor. But she was stopped before she could reach it. A woman stood in front of her, in the middle of the stairs, and it didn't seem like she planned on stepping aside.

"What are you looking for?" the woman asked, her voice suspecting. She was tall, or so it seemed to Éponine, who was standing a step lower. "A job?"

Éponine was alarmed by her question. Surely her hair was longer now, but she still had intended to look like a man when she had walked in there. The woman smiled knowingly.

"I've seen many girls dressed like that to not recognise one" she explained, her eyes curiously inspecting Éponine, "So, what is it you seek? Job, or pleasure?"

Éponine blushed at the insinuation, but saw an opportunity she hadn't considered. "Pleasure" she barely muttered, and then cleared her throat; she would need to sound more convincing than that. Or perhaps not, since the woman before her seemed charmed by her timidity.

"Follow me, then" she smirked. The woman placed a hand on Éponine's shoulder and slid it until she reached her hand. Éponine felt the place was too warm suddenly. She wasn't sure what she was doing, or how she would get out of it, but she followed the woman up the rest of the stairs. Once they reached the first floor, the woman led her through one of the doors and closed behind her. Éponine surveyed the room, which was nicer than she had expected. It was mostly clean, and there was a large bed in the center. The walls were bare, except for a small mirror hanging by the window.

"You've never been with a woman" the stranger whispered behind her, and Éponine jolted, turning around. Now that the woman was in front of her, Éponine realised she was actually shorter than she had seemed. There was curiosity in her eyes as she circled her, making Éponine nervous. She had never been admired like that before, let alone by a woman. And that was quite a beautiful one.

"No" Éponine answered, trying not to sound too anxious, "but I have seen a beautiful girl around here, and I would like to meet her."

"Oh" the woman sounded disappointed as she took a step back. "What girl?"

"She's got blonde hair and fair skin. I think her name might be Cosette." Éponine saw a spark of recognition in the woman's eyes.  _She's here_ , Éponine thought, as she felt hope growing inside her. However, she had failed to see the knife hiding under the woman's skirt, which was held against Éponine's throat before she knew what was happening.

"Why are you looking for her?" she asked threateningly. Éponine gasped at the cold contact of the knife against her skin. 

"I'm a friend of hers! Please, I mean no harm. Tell me if you know where she is."

"Friends are suddenly budding out of nowhere, it would seem. Just a few days ago Patron-Minette came here, asking about her as well. Aren't you with them? What do you want from her?"

Éponine raised her hands in surrender, but the woman still held the knife against her. "Patron-Minette have been asking about her?" she questioned, shocked. She had no idea of what reason they could have to go after Cosette, but it could only be related to herself. Éponine began to panic, "Is she still here? Did they harm her?"

The woman seemed confused at her words, and Éponine took the opportunity to hit her arm, making her drop the knife. She glared at her as she took a step back. "Please, tell me where she is. She's been missing for two years. We've been looking for her." Éponine's pleading got to the girl, whose posture relaxed as she considered her words. Then, her expression turned to one of surprise, as her eyes widened.

"Are you Éponine?" the woman asked. Éponine nodded franctically. If she knew her name, it meant she knew Cosette well enough.

"Please, tell me where she is" she begged. The woman stood there for a moment, without moving, just observing her. And then she nodded. To Éponine, that acceptance tasted like relief and joy. 

"Wait here." 

And Éponine waited. 

She paced the room nervously, didn't know for how long. Then she heard rapid steps approaching, and her heart stopped for a second, until the door opened to reveal her long lost friend. Cosette ran towards the girl and Éponine received her with open arms, embracing her small figure, feeling her heart drumming hardly against her chest. She was safe, she seemed unharmed, and she was there. Cosette was alive and sobbing against her hair, just as she was. 

"I can't believe you're here" the girl cried. Éponine let her go to get a better look at her. Her eyes were red and filled with tears, and her hair was longer than the last time she had seen her. Apart from that, it seemed as if time had had no effect on Cosette; her cheeks were rosy as ever, and her face was exactly as she remembered. Éponine smiled delighted at her sight.

"Oh God, Cosette. I have missed you so much! We all have."

"We?" she asked, hopeful. Éponine nodded in confirmation.

"I'm here with our friends, Cosette. We all came looking for you. They had been looking all along, but it wasn't until recently that they had any clue about you. And we have finally found you. Oh Lord, Marius is going to die when he sees you."

Éponine noticed someone by the door, and she looked to see it was the woman from before. "Thank you" she told her, "You have no clue how much she has been missed."

"Oh, Éponine, you have already met Musichetta" Cosette intervened. She grabbed her hand and led her closer to where the other woman was standing. "She has been a dear friend since I arrived, I don't know what would have been of me if not for her." Cosette sounded delighted, and Éponine noticed a shy smile in Musichetta. "But we will talk about all of that later. Tell me, where is everybody?"

Éponine led Cosette towards their friends. When they saw her, they couldn't believe their eyes. The girl was received just as Éponine had been, among breathtaking hugs and joyful laughter. Éponine had never witnessed a moment so precious, she couldn't stop smiling. The scene repeated later, when they hurried back to the ship and Cosette was reunited with the rest of Les Amis. Needless to say, Marius wasn't able to utter a word when he saw her. He just held onto her as if his life depended on it. Éponine thought that, maybe, it did to some extent.

 

 


	14. The Lost Sheep

That night was spent celebrating the return of Cosette. Musichetta joined the crew of Le Musain for the night, and she helped Cosette tell the story about her time on the island. Their tale didn't lessen the joy of the party, since the girl had ended up more fortunate than they ever expected.

Cosette had indeed been sold to the brothel which was ran by Musichetta's mother, Ghislaine. She had been given a choice upon her arrival there -as, apparently, all the other women were given- between making money on the bed or under the heating sun working the fields. Once bought from pirates or slave traders, Ghislaine let the girls work for her, to pay the debt of their cost; and when that had been settled, they were free to leave if they wished, although the majority chose to stay. Cosette had been one of those. Working on the fields had been hard; it had taken Cosette a year and a half of work to settle her debt, since the crops didn't grant as much money as the brothel. But even after she was free to go, and due to her lack of any means to return to France, Cosette had remained there working, and making a life for herself under the protection of Ghislaine.

Once again, life had favored the Lark. But this time, Éponine couldn't bring herself to be bitter about it. She drank to Cosette's return and her well being just like everyone else.

After she and Courfeyrac had finished a bottle of rum, Éponine stood up with shaky legs and wandered the ship looking for an empty place where she could pee. After almost falling down the stairs, she suddenly remembered that she had a cabin now, and so Éponine made her way up again. A sense of déjà vu invaded her when she spotted Musichetta standing a few steps above, blocking her path. Éponine couldn't see her face in the dimness of the stairs, but by the way her arms were crossed over her chest, and her shoulders squared, she assumed there was something she wanted.

"I have a letter for you" the woman said, extracting a piece of paper out of her bodice, holding it in the air for Éponine to take. 

Éponine was confused, "You wrote me a letter?"

Musichetta sighed and approached her, "It's from Patron-Minette" she whispered in her ear. Éponine's blood ran cold at her words. "When they came looking for Cosette and couldn't find her, he left this. He said to give it to Éponine Thénardier, if she ever came to the brothel."

Éponine took the letter reluctantly with trembling hands. Musichetta seemed to notice there was something wrong. 

"They're looking for you as well, aren't they?" she guessed. Éponine nodded, not sure of what to say if she asked what for. But the girl didn't ask, and instead, she gave Éponine space. "Be careful. Those are dangerous men."

Éponine couldn't hold back a bitter laugh at the woman's piece of advice.  _I should know_ , she thought. But the words didn't come out. Instead, she walked past Musichetta and rushed into her cabin. 

 

 

Éponine was shaking in panic as she paced the room, avoiding to look at the piece of paper that laid on her bed. The words it held were to be expected. But what got her so anxious was not -entirely- its content, and rather the unsettling thought of how close they had been to a meeting with Patron-Minette. If only they had arrived a few days earlier, and them a few days later... She thanked whatever trick the universe had put into motion in order to prevent such encounter. 

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and Éponine opened rapidly to reveal Enjolras outside. There was a spark in his eyes, and Éponine noticed he looked somewhat disheveled despite the perfect state of his expression. 

"Éponine..." he began, but as he noticed her worry, he changed his words and his face filled with concern, "Are you alright?"

"Absolutely not" she blurted out. She grabbed his hand and led him inside, closing the door behind her. 

Enjolras seemed taken aback by her harshness, and stared worriedly at the girl as she resumed her pacing around the room. "Are you drunk?" he asked. That made Éponine laugh sarcastically, because of course he would worry about such an insignificant thing, and -furthermore-, chastise her over said thing when it was clear he had been drinking too. 

"Evidently" she replied harshly, "but that's merely a reason for concern." 

Éponine pursed her lips then, unsure if it was a good plan to tell Enjolras about the letter. They had come closer in the past days, that was undeniable, and she felt more comfortable around him now than she had felt years ago; but still... Did he really mean his words, when he said she could count on him? That he would trust her? Something along those lines had been said the last time as well, and it had only granted Éponine rejection and betrayal from the crew. This time, the risk was even greater, with a more numerous crew of unknown men, and someone else's life at stake. 

Éponine felt her heart thrum slightly stronger inside her chest; the joy of the news only partly noticed, due to the menace it accompanied them.

"Éponine, what's wrong?" Enjolras pressed, his expression completely clouded by concern. She had to tell him. This time the letter wasn't just about her. Enjolras deserved to know; they all deserved to know. Even though it would surely cost Éponine her place there. She stopped before the man, her head spinning from all the pacing.

"I have received a letter from Patron-Minette."

"What?" he asked alarmed, "How? What does it say?"

Instead of dragging the words out of her mouth, Éponine walked past the man and picked up the letter from the bed. She handed it to him, setting earnest eyes on his. "I'm trusting you" she stated. Enjolras clenched his jaw and nodded in understanding. He reached for the letter and glanced at the woman in front of him, before his look was averted towards the paper. And then, he began reading aloud. Éponine wished he hadn't, because the words uttered were not meant to remain in her head with the sound of his voice. The words sounded wrong coming from him, and Éponine couldn't help but shiver as he spoke them.

"Dearest Éponine. It causes me great sorrow that you are parted from us once more. Know that I carry you in my thoughts, and..." Enjolras paused, and looked at her as if asking for permission to go on. Éponine encouraged him with a doubtful nod, and he obediently returned to the letter, "Know that I carry you in my thoughts, and the ghost of your warmth haunts me. As much as the life you took in your way." He paused again, although this time he didn't look at her. It was just a halt, a moment to gather that piece of information which she knew he could use against her later. But she felt too anxious for him to continue to worry about that at the moment. And to her relief, he resumed his reading immediately. "I await for an explanation as to your actions. Every deed must be paid for. Until we meet again, a friendly doctor has taken your place. It is certainly amusing, the paths that fate designs for us. Yet, it is unsettling that you refuse to acknowledge yours." Enjolras frowned as he straightened the piece of paper. Éponine thought he looked uncomfortable, although at which part of the message, she couldn't guess. "In Ouessant, the lost sheep may go back to its rebel flock. No ocean can keep us apart. Montparnasse."

Éponine waited. The words carved a hole in her heart, claiming their place among her shadows, while, simultaneously, bringing her a feeling which resembled hope. She waited for Enjolras to react, but he looked pensive with his eyes still fixed on the paper, unaware of the growing anxiety that had taken over the girl ever since she read those words herself.

"I... I don't understand" Enjolras said, finally looking her in the eyes. "Joly?"

Éponine nodded timidly, and she felt her own face mirroring the bliss that spread over Enjolras' features as his doubts began to clear. 

"He's alive" he realised, marvelled. His hands found their way to the girl's arms, where they held her tightly, still stunned, "Éponine, Joly is alive!"

Éponine felt his firm grip on her, and for a moment, that was it. Everything stopped around them. Her fears muted; the alcohol in her veins didn't make her head spin; the letter in his hand didn't lessen the joy of the news. The room stood still. This close, she could only see him. This close, his golden hair resembled a halo around his head. And then, his face came even closer, and all Éponine could see were his closed eyes as he kissed her. The press of his lips on hers was something that Éponine had never even considered a possibility; it made her blush, feeling him so close, so rushed. It was too intimate a moment, an outbreak of cheer and delight celebrated in the most unexpected manner. And something else underneath; not quite passion, but tenderness. Éponine wondered why such a thing was happening. She was stunned, unable to move, incapable of returning any affection, for it was a kind of affection which felt alien to her. 

And then the world regained its speed, and Éponine was hit by the news, and the threats, and Enjolras' warmth all at once. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed. The warmth was gone. Everything else remained. Éponine felt a rush of emotions inside her, mixing together, pulling at her chest, demanding her attention. Joy, anxiety, guilt, helplessness, surprise... she couldn't focus on one, so she tried to focus on the outside, on the man standing before her. 

Enjolras was gaping, his hands closed in fists, his eyes set on her, his cheeks slightly colored. There was a turmoil inside him as well, Éponine could see it, although she guessed the causes vastly differed from her own.

"I'm sorry, I don't..." Enjolras began, but there was no time for that. Éponine recovered the letter from his grasp and held it in the air.

"They have Joly, Enjolras" she told him, witnessing as his expression gradually changed at the realisation. "Joly is alive, but Patron-Minette has him."

There was confusion in his face as he took the letter once again and his eyes scanned the page, searching for the bit of information he had missed, finding it between the lines. His mouth twisted in anger as he finally understood.

"They want an exchange" Éponine explained. A sense of vertigo overcame her, and she had to sit on the bed in order to avoid falling to the floor. She held onto its edge firmly, as she put her fears into words: "They will set him free once I go back to them. In Ouessant. We must set course for Ouessant."

"No, we can't." Enjolras sat beside her, his voice unwavering. "We can't just deliver you to them, Éponine. You're not going anywhere near them."

"What about Joly? We just abandon him?"

"We will fight for him."

"They will kill him!" she exclaimed.

"We won't lose you again!" he shouted, and this time, his voice broke. Éponine saw determination in his eyes, mouth set on a stern line as he watched her. What did he see? Éponine wondered. 

She inhaled deeply and turned her eyes away, towards the dull safety of the floor. Éponine buried her head in her hands, overwhelmed. Fear seemed to be winning the battle inside her. "I'm scared, Enjolras" she whimpered, and immediately she felt his hand rubbing her back, "I am terrified of what they'll do this time. I'm afraid that he is right and my place  is with them."

"Shush, Éponine" he murmured, soothingly. "There's no reason to be afraid; they aren't here, and they won't get here. They can't reach you as long as you are with us. Your place is with us."

Éponine felt a hot tear escape her eye, she was so tired of being afraid. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for me. Bad things keep happening because I try to get away from them. First Cosette, now Joly... Montparnasse may be insane, but he might also be right about my fate."

Éponine felt Enjolras' hand climb her back until it cupped her head, mingling in her locks. He made her look at him, and with his free hand, caressed her cheek on the place were tears had wetted it. She felt it so intimate that she shivered; on her lips still lingered the touch of his.

"He's wrong. Your presence in our lives can't be an error of fate" he told her, his eyes soft but unyielding, "You belong where you desire to be, nowhere else." His hand left her cheek and found her hand, and he held it soflty, letting his thumb rub circles over her skin. "It is not your fault that they have Joly. It is not your fault that Cosette was taken either. Hadn't we agreed that I was to blame for that?" Éponine saw a slight smile on his lips, but she couldn't find the humour to provide one herself. "We will find a way" Enjolras said, more to himself than for her ears. But his eyes still watched her attentively. Through them, he assured her it would be alright, she would be alright. And although there were no words uttered, she believed him.

 _A way for what?_  Éponine questioned, although it was only in her mind. 

 

A few moments passed; she hadn't noticed how, or when, but Éponine realised she was calmer, her hands steady under his, her chest quiet and still. She noticed Enjolras' attention was no longer set on her; instead, he seemed deep in thought. 

"Won't you ask who I killed?" she said, dragging the man back to the room. He looked shocked for a moment, and then his mind caught up and his face relaxed. "His name was Claquesous" she provided, leaving him no time to utter a word. "That's how I escaped" Éponine regarded the man; there was no change in his expression, "...but maybe you already knew that."

"I suspected it" he only answered. Éponine was almost disappointed that he hadn't shown alarm, or anger, or anything at all. It seemed as if he had made peace with the idea of her taking someone's life long ago. As if he thought it was only natural for her. It upset her, because it wasn't, and because she hadn't made peace with that part of herself just yet.

"Are you suddenly alright with me being a murderer?" she asked, standing up, losing contact with his hands, which made her own feel cold. Enjolras was puzzled at her sudden outburst. He stared at her, gaping, from his place on the bed.

"Who says you're a murderer?" he asked, incredulous. "Whatever happened he surely deserved it, Éponine. I have no doubt about that."

Éponine felt a surge of rage take over her tongue, she felt confused because she didn't even know where all her resentment was coming from. "Well, that would make this the first time you haven't doubted me. Precisely the one time you have a reason to!"

"What?" he asked confused, standing up to look her in the eye. "Are you actually mad? Because I'm keeping my word that I would trust you?"

"Maybe!" she replied, angered. "It's the first time you actually keep your word, I don't know how to handle that!"

Éponine knew the words were wrong, unfair, but she spilled them all the same. 

Enjolras looked hurt, his frown the only sign of an otherwise guarded irritation. He opened his mouth, but closed it without saying what he intended, and she hated him for that. She had earnt whatever mean response he would have provided. Instead, he remained silent and, with a final glare, he stormed out of the quarter, leaving Éponine with one more conflict inside her head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure about this chapter, but hey! we finally took a step forward on the romantic sphere.  
> Hope you liked it, thanks for reading!!


	15. Dive

Ever since the crew learned the news about Joly, there had settled among them a newfound hope. They had thought him lost, but then they were told that he was still alive, and just those few words ignited a new purpose within them. It lighted a flame which could be seen in their eyes if one looked closely enough. They were told about Patron-Minette as well, but not even that could deter their hope of reuniting with him. Les Amis set course towards Ouessant immediately, and although the journey promised to be a long one, the silent joy at the news didn't quite disappear, as they reunited and planned the best course of action to get their friend back without putting anybody else at risk.

The rest of the letter was kept a secret, one that only Enjolras and Éponine knew about.

But despite the cheerful atmosphere that reigned on Le Musain, Éponine had never seen Cosette look so unhappy.

 

Ever since they left Nassau, she had been acting strangely; too focused on getting things done, barely stopping at all. The girl seemed enthusiastic enough to be back on Le Musain (perhaps a little too much), but when no one was looking, Éponine had noticed how her once permanent smile disappeared and her eyes lost part of their gleam. It wasn't like she was weeping in a corner, making them worry. No, Cosette wasn't unhappy like that, but there was something -Éponine was convinced. In fact, the strange switch in her mood had been demonstrated so subtly, that it led Éponine to think no one else apart from her had noticed it. 

It had been five days since they parted from the island, and Éponine couldn't help but reach the conclusion that maybe Cosette was missing something; that maybe she had left something precious behind.

"Tell me what's got you so melancholic" Éponine told her that afternoon.

Cosette had made it a habit to visit Éponine in her cabin after lunch, insisting that they should resume to read as they used to do. However, Éponine suspected it was just an excuse to get some privacy from the rest of the ship, including Marius. It was odd, that the girl wouldn't want to spend all of her time in the company of her husband, making up for their lost time. But Cosette spent more and more time with everyone else but. Despite that, she looked happy when in his company, as if she had no reason to avoid him, as if she didn't do it intentionally.

"Melancholic?" Cosette laughed, nonchalant "What are you talking about?"

Éponine took the book from her hands so the girl had no option but to look at her and see she wasn't joking. Her lips pursed at the realisation, her blue eyes inspecting Éponine.

"Do you miss the island?" she questioned, "Your life there?"

Cosette thought about it for a moment, but shook her head slightly before she uttered an answer.

"My life there wasn't something to be missed. I just worked all day and prayed all night that I would find a way to leave. I wasn't miserable there, but it wasn't the life I wanted either."

"You missed the burgeois life style we have here?" Éponine teased, earning a grin from Cosette.

"Yes, of course. Pissing in a bucket and the scent of sweating men passing by; my dream come true." Éponine laughed, she had missed the Lark so much. "I missed the rest of it" Cosette continued, "all of you. Marius. Papa."

At the girl's halt, Éponine asked worriedly "What about your papa?"

Cosette frowned, "I sent him a letter from Nassau. I figured he would have heard about what happened, that perhaps he would find a way to come and bring me home... But I never got an answer, and he never appeared. Something must have happened to him."

Éponine saw the concern on her friend's face and reached for her hand, trying to provide some sort of comfort. "So that is what has got you so oddly unhappy... Cheer up, Cosette, you will get to see him soon!"

"I hope so" Cosette smiled, although it didn't feel honest, and it vanished rapidly from her mouth. "There's something else, Éponine." She seemed hesitant, and a moment later she was standing up and pacing the room, her hands fidgeting with her dress. "I may have fallen in love, while in Nassau."

Éponine's jaw hung loose at the unexpected confession. Cosette's cheeks turned pink under her gaze. "Don't mistake me" she continued, "I love Marius with all my heart. Even after all these years, I felt utter happiness when I saw him again... but I also feel heavy, in the chest, now that I have left." The nervousness had disappeared, replaced by the same sad expression which had made Éponine suspect in the first place.

"Who is it?" she asked, and Cosette sighed before finally admitting: "Musichetta."

 

Éponine listened intrigued as Cosette told her about the extraordinary woman she had left behind. She didn't explain much about her and Musichetta, or how her feelings had come to evolve in such a way. Éponine didn't compel the girl to any sort of explanation. The look in her eyes spoke for her, told Éponine that whatever had existed between the two of them, had been deeply felt, and currently missed. 

As much as she appreciated Marius, Éponine couldn't judge Cosette for seeking love somewhere else, since she understood what loneliness and desperation could do. She had been there. Different situation, definitely different kind of people, but nonetheless, a similar search for  _that_ feeling. A feeling in which she had given up by then.

 

Éponine had given up on love some time ago. 

Growing up, her mother had planted an idea inside her mind, back when life was kind to the Thénardiers and they could find the time to care for their children. She had been told she would grow up and marry a very rich man, for she would be a proper lady and go to balls and stun all the gentlemen with her looks. Mme Thénardier had made her believe that she would find love and her life would be solved, since she would need not to fend for herself. There would be someone who would care, and give her the life she deserved. And Éponine had believed it with all her heart.

When the Thénardiers' life crumbled, they lost every franc, every possession, and all sense of decency (however little remained). They were doomed, their futures lost, their plans stretching as far as the following day, for they couldn't afford to see further than that. But Éponine held onto that hope of a love that would change her life and save her. She had spent most of her adolescence daydreaming about that future, which began to appear farther and farther away as she grew old and her stomach grew hungrier. She had nothing else, but her hope never left her, she held onto it like a lifeline.

Once she had been old enough -and wandered the sea instead of the streets-, Éponine had realised that she would never be good enough or pretty enough for a fine man. Love wouldn't find her, she would have to go and search for it instead, and so her hope changed. She didn't wish for a savior anymore, just a good man to love her, to make her feel important and beautiful even in her tattered clothes.

When she was taken back to L'ombre two years ago, she still held onto the hope of some kind of future next to somebody -maybe not a fine man, just someone who would love her, and whom she would love. But once again, life made her expectations seem delusional. Every touch from Montparnasse contributed to shrink her hope, every kiss from his mouth silenced its echo, every word that he spilled altered the very concept of that hope in her mind, twisting it to mold to the idea that he would be the only one, the best she would ever get, the most she deserved. 

And so her hope for love faded away imperceptibly, in time, so casually that Éponine hadn't even noticed. There was no hope anymore, no place for love. 

 

And then Enjolras had kissed her, and she had been taken aback by that small demonstration of love. She hadn't been expecting it, that's why she reacted so mechanically when it happened. Éponine hadn't known how to react to such an act, she had no idea how to let the gesture take form in her mind. 

Was it out of joy? They had been drunk, and it had been a cheerful moment, discovering that his lost friend was apparently not dead. His smile had been so bright, right before it collided against her mouth... it made Éponine think that maybe he had just let himself get carried away by the excitement of the moment. But then, another thought would come to her -a reminder more precisely-, that Enjolras was not a man of rushed actions; he wasn't one to get carried away by emotions, at least not in such a way. And that trail of thought led her toward the other possibility. That perhaps, it had been out of love. But love was something she had never associated with him. She had never suspected that the man could even think about her that way, let alone feel something for her. How could he? All they ever did was fight and disagree and distrust. Where in that scheme did love fit? They had shared some nice moments, and surely they had come very close since her return... but love? She just couldn't embrace the idea. 

With all the thought she was putting into it, though, she felt like she wanted to embrace it.

 

Éponine had given up on love some time ago, but since the moment Enjolras kissed her that night, she hadn't stopped thinking about it. About him. 

Even if it had been just for a moment, he had made her feel strangely well. It hadn't felt wrong, to have him so close, to feel his touch. His kiss had been as revealing as it had been surprising. It had made her not only see the possibility of his affection for her, but it also made her wonder how did she feel about him. Éponine would be lying if she said she had never felt attracted to him; she had, since Enjolras was a man whose beauty didn't go unnoticed, and whose mind wasn't one to be ignored. She had even thought about him sexually once, back when things were easier and their friendship was beginning to take form. It had felt silly then, but it didn't feel so crazy as she laid in her bed now, giving second thoughts to everything, reconsidering the man and every moment they had shared. And every moment they shared now, since that night; since that kiss that opened a new door for them. 

They hadn't mentioned what happened, but it would be naive to think that neither of them was haunted by that moment. In the last days, their glances had grown more frequent. They blushed more often, whenever they accidentally touched. Their conversations had become awkward, or non existent at all. They seemed to have reached the unspoken agreement to keep their guard up around each other. 

 

Éponine had been lying in bed for hours, but sleep evaded her. Although she had been avoiding Enjolras during the last days, she felt now a craving for him, for an explanation, or a clarification. She needed answers, and she wouldn't get them by avoiding him or thinking about it till her head hurt. There was only one way in which Éponine could get an answer, both to his feelings for her, and hers for him.

 

The deck of Le Musain was desert and still, the only sounds heard in the dead of the night were the waves splashing against the hull below. Éponine crossed the deck, swift and quiet as the shadow she had learnt to be, and then she knocked on Enjolras' door. She felt her pulse growing fast as the seconds passed, the chill air of the night helping her to keep her feet firmly on the floor and her head set on her decision.  

But then Enjolras opened the door, and she froze. 

His hair was unruly, his feet bare, and his squinting eyes widened as he recognised her figure standing there. Instinctinly, Éponine's eyes focused on his lips, which were uttering words she was unable to hear over the thumping of her own heart. She relived the feeling of his mouth on hers and craved for it. And that's when she figured she wanted him. Whatever he would offer, she would take.

"I'm sorry" she told him, stepping closer, interrupting his unheard words. "About the other day." She closed the door behind her. Enjolras stilled, whether to her words or her proximity, she couldn't know. 

Éponine felt her cheeks grow hot at her bold movements, but she didn't waver. She raised a hand to touch his face, fingertips clutching his cheek and chin as she got close enough. She gazed into those eyes and saw uncertainty in them, expectation. Éponine felt his breath against her skin, and it drew her in. She brushed her lips against his, tentatively, eyes wide open and set on him, waiting for a reaction, half expecting rejection. But Enjolras didn't move; he let her wander his lips calmly, closing his eyes to receive whatever was coming, defenseless, peaceful.

They remained that way for a while, lips parted open, gravitating towards each other, brushing softly here and there, testing the waters. Tasting the promise of what awaited if they truly closed the distance and kissed.

And eventually, Éponine closed that distance -and her eyes-, and her mouth didn't brush against Enjolras', but engulfed it. The firm pressure made her feel like she was staring into a new horizon, too blinding to catch sight of anything, but safe and warm enough to make her want to stay. And he corresponded. He kissed her back gently, passionately, and it made Éponine's breath catch when his arms surrounded her. His hand pressed against her back firmly, holding her in place, chests and stomachs colliding for the first time. Éponine's hands travelled his cheeks and jaw, and then his neck, where they found a resting place, right where she could feel his rapid pulse against her fingers. 

He tasted of something brand new. Something close to comfort, and passion, and love. To Éponine, it felt like a place to get lost. A place she wanted to dive into. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is definitely related to that Ed Sheeran song. If you don't know which one, I highly recommend you go listen.  
> PS: I totally intended to write a one-shot about Cosette and Musichetta in the island, but things got in the way... someday maybe.


	16. Clear the Deck

Enjolras was the one to bring their mouths to a halt. He retreated slightly, resting his forehead against Éponine's. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring. His hands gave no truce, they remained glued to her back, holding her in place.

"Éponine?" he muttered.  _What is this?_  he seemed to be asking. No, not asking. Begging.

"I wanted to know if you had meant it, the other day " she whispered, timidly looking him in the eyes. "I wasn't expecting it. I didn't know you if you meant it... We were drunk and..."

"I meant it" he told her, eyes full of conviction. 

And just like that, Éponine got the answer she'd been looking for. He had kissed her not in a fit of excitement, nor by error; he had meant to kiss her. She closed her eyes for a moment, making room in her mind for that bit of information.

 _Why?_  Was the question she had wanted to ask then.  _Why did you kiss me? Why me? What do you see?_ But she didn't utter any of those. She was in too much need of love for her to question it. For once in her life, someone had approached her without her begging for it, -or without them holding any sort of power over her. She just wanted to embrace it; to get a glimpse behind the curtain at what love was like. Éponine welcomed whatever it was he felt for her; and even though she wasn't sure of what she felt for Enjolras herself, there was definitely something which made her feel warm inside, made her feel good. It did, right then and there.

Éponine blushed, all of a sudden too aware of their bodies so near each other, of his hands holding her back firmly, of his breath brushing over her mouth. She felt like she should say something, but the best she came up with was a short "Good" before she found his lips again.

Enjolras didn't waver and kissed her back impatiently, with a different rhythm this time, almost recklessly. 

They found a brand new form of arguing, letting their feelings take control, and their bodies explain what they weren't bold enough to say aloud. Little by little, they set aside the previous tenderness and replaced it with something urgent. Her hands ran through his hair, his fingers held onto her waist, their tongues talked about desire in a way they had never imagined before. Their touch grew impatient. Soon, their hands found arms, and hips, and stomachs; warm skin underneath their clothes. Éponine needed more than that. She felt the anticipation in her body, down, between her legs, where his fingers hadn't dared to wander just yet. A soft moan escaped her as he circled her navel, interrupting their mouths' work. Enjolras looked at her in a way she had never been looked at before: like he was marveled, and he longed for her, and there was a veil of affection covering it all. 

"I want you, Éponine" he said softly, breath uneven and mouth parted, as if he was only then realising the truth behind his words.

Éponine couldn't stop herself. Her hands reached for his shirt and began to bring it higher, intending to get rid of it. Enjolras raised his arms and helped, eyes never leaving hers. She caressed his bare chest, pale against her fingers, and left a soft kiss on his mouth before taking a step back. Éponine stepped out of her boots. Her hands found the waist of her pants, and she slid them down her legs and tossed them aside under Enjolras' gaze; her shirt still long enough to cover her nudity.

"Then take me" she murmured, a shiver running down her spine, this time not because she was afraid, but because she was full of an expectation she had never felt before. It overwhelmed her as she took his hand and led them towards the bed. But Enjolras stopped abruptly. She looked at him and found conflict in his eyes, his lips pursed proudly, his cheeks blushed.

"I will need you to guide me" he admitted, and although he said nothing else, Éponine understood. She had never caught him even sneaking a glance at any woman, so the implication of his words came as no surprise. He had never been with a woman before. It did, however, made her wonder once again what had he ever seen in her. But she didn't ask; instead, her thumb rubbed the back of his hand calmly.

Éponine nodded to let him know she understood, she held his face between her palms and pressed her lips against his own, and then she told him "Lay down." Enjolras obeyed, but before he climbed the bed, he imitated her previous actions and got rid of his pants. 

Once he was waiting for her, laying in the mattress, Éponine found herself marveled at such a sight. The words almost escaped her lips unwillingly.  "You're so beautiful" she murmured, stunned. She had never seen a more magnificent creature than the bewildered man who stared back at her under the dim light of the moon. It wasn't a praise, just a realisation, but the sound of her voice speaking those words made her blush all the same, even if he seemed to not have heard them at all. 

Éponine climbed the bed and caressed his ribs as she kissed him, her body hovering above his, their hands both anxious and tender and learning quickly about the corners of their bodies that made them moan under the other's touch.

Then, Éponine straddled him. She abandoned his lips for a moment to sit on his lap, and she felt herself blush once more when she took off her shirt and his hungry eyes surveyed her body, taking in the sight of her. She was nothing magnificent, just tanned skin and portruding bones. But perhaps that was enough for a man who had never seen past a collarbone, because Enjolras looked at her longingly, expectant.

Éponine guided his hands through her naked skin, up her legs, until they rested on her lower back and he was sitting too. His eyes found hers, full of anticipation and desire. He joined their mouths impatient, and Éponine instinctively swayed her hips, moaning at the feeling that shot through her body. 

Enjolras grunted against her mouth when her hand found him and guided him inside.

Éponine stood still, relishing the feeling of their connection, noticing the urgency with which he kissed her. And suddenly, her hips moved, grinding against him out of their own volition, and Enjolras' fingers held tightly onto them. His own body started moving to meet hers, gasps escaped their mouths. Their breaths were taken away by the pleasant feeling of skin meeting skin, of having each other, of being caught in the rhythm of their every move.

Éponine held onto his neck. Enjolras wandered her legs with his hands. Their mouths never parted, but to moan softly against the other's ear. Pleasure found them entangled in each other, trembling, both of them only then discovering what it meant to make love to another person.

 

 

 

Tension began to grow on Le Musain as the ship neared its destination. Although they had all agreed on the urgency of rescuing Joly, the crew didn't seem to be able to agree on the best way to approach L'ombre. They had been discussing different plans for a while now, and Éponine's mood had turned listless thinking about the one plan that she knew would work. The one which she couldn't exactly propose out loud.

"We can't just approach them and take them by surprise, they'll see us coming, no matter where we appear from."

"We don't need to surprise them. They haven't got guns, we do! We attack as soon as we have them close enough..."

"You forget about Joly, idiot! He could get hurt!"

"That's if they don't kill him just because we are attacking..."

"No, there must be some other way. Maybe we could sneak from the other side of the island..."

"Well, they won't see us coming if they don't see the ship."

"But Joly would still be in harms way, wouldn't he?"

 _He wouldn't suffer any harm if we followed my plan,_  Éponine had wanted to shout at her friends. But she couldn't, and instead of shouting, she pursed her lips and set her eyes on the floor. Her plan was simple: get herself on a boat, row towards L'ombre all alone, and get Joly to his friends. Les Amis would be safe and away from Patron-Minette, Joly would be freed... and she would be back on the place of her nightmares. That was the one flaw on her plan; the one which made her shiver, but precisely the one which made her plan safer for everybody else. In her mind, it had come to that: either she got herself in trouble, or everybody else did.

But if she proposed her plan, there were two things which were most likely to happen: she would have to explain to the rest of the crew that what Patron-Minette really wanted was an exchange, Joly's life for hers. She would have to explain to them why as well, and she couldn't see herself sharing the murder of Claquesous with any more people. She'd had enough of revisiting and talking about those memories that still haunted her at night. And then, what would happen once she talked about her intentions and they understood, was that her friends would immediately oppose, which would result in her looking listlessly at the floor while listening to their arguments; exactly as she was doing just then.

Éponine got startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

"Hey, you okay?" Grantaire asked beside her. Éponine nodded slightly. Not even Grantaire knew about the letter.

"Just worried about Joly" she replied. 

"I'm worried too. Our odds aren't providing any sort of comfort" he told her, and Éponine wondered if he was trying to be reassuring, since his calmed exterior didn't match his grim words. "We don't have a clue how we'll do it, but he'll be back before we know it."

Éponine sighed at Grantaire's attempt at reassurance. His words had always come at the right time, but when it came to the topic of Joly, the man seemed to have lost his touch. She knew he wasn't one to have faith or high hopes, so Éponine guessed this was just a reflection of him trying to get himself ready for the inevitable possibility that Joly might not survive. She glanced around the deck and wondered if the rest of them had even considered that. 

 

 

Nights had become a source of comfort. What had previously been Éponine's loneliest and scariest times, now provided warmth, and safety, and love. Enjolras had brought about that change, and Éponine liked to think that she'd had a similar effect upon his nightly routines. 

They hadn't openly addressed their feelings, or what they were, or why they seemed to care about the other. Whatever their relationship was now, it was a matter they were both tiptoeing around. They didn't know what they had, only that it came at night, when the ship was quiet and the lights were gone. Theirs was a thing lived among shadows, and Éponine found that realisation to be amusing. 

After the first time, they had been hesitant to seek the other, perhaps embarrased of their need for more than just one night. It had taken Éponine a few nights of sleeping alone to gather the courage again and knock on his door, and then a few more for Enjolras to appear at her quarters. But then, they found each other every night, as if it was part of their routine to secretely meet and give the other warmth, or comfort, or whatever they needed. Sometimes they had sex. Other times they just slept, finding ease in knowing the other was there. Sometimes holding each other, other times not even touching. They had no idea how to proceed, or what was normal, or what wasn't. They had never shared a thing like what they had with any other person; they were learning, letting need guide their steps. There was a common knowledge they shared, though, a common understanding that kept everything else at bay -whatever doubt, whatever awkwardness. All of the defenses they built around each other in public seemed to fade away once they were alone, in their common ground.

That night, Enjolras had slipped into her bed and held her close to his chest, no hesitation, no words spoken. Éponine felt relieved to feel him there. She had been planning on taking the boat and leaving that very same night, but it would have to wait. She would be selfish for one more night, and then she would be gone again. Éponine held his hand against her chest, and they fell asleep.

 

 

Their rest was interrupted by a shouting voice that jolted them awake. 

"CLEAR THE DECK!"

And then the sound of a cannon rang in the early morning light, and they felt Le Musain shake. 

They were under attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is kind of an interlude (??), or rather a preparation for what's coming. I don't know why, but I feel it turned out weirdly structured. Anyway, brace yourselves, we're getting close to the end!


	17. Wish Granted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of trauma, death and torture.

When Éponine and Enjolras emerged into the deck, there was only chaos. Men were running and pulling at ropes, lying on the floor injured, shouting commands which were silenced by the blast of more cannonballs hitting the ship, making them fall to their feet, giving them just enough time to stand up before they were hit again. Éponine's heart sank to the floor when she recognised the ship attacking them: L'ombre. Patron-Minette. Montparnasse. 

She started moving out of instinct, not really knowing what she was doing. Enjolras was lost in the crowd, she couldn't even focus to recognise the people around her, just did whatever they told her. Get this. Bring that. Hold onto this rope. Now pull. Harder. Stand up. What are you doing? 

Éponine stopped obeying when she realised that L'ombre wasn't getting any closer. They were just firing their cannons. When had they ever got so many cannons? It wasn't like them, they had always favoured speed over protection. What had changed for them to compromise their means of escape? Maybe they didn't intend on escaping anymore, maybe their hatred towards her and her friends had made them so intent on vengeance that they were being reckless. Another cannonball hit Le Musain, confirming Éponine's suspicions.  They weren't getting any closer. They weren't going to board them. They wanted to sink them.

"The boats" Éponine muttered, but not even she could hear it over the sounds of the battle. "To the boats!" she screamed, only loud enough for a few men to hear; not convincing enough to make them obey. "GET TO THE BOATS!" she tried again, and this time she saw familiar faces approaching her. "Combeferre, Prouvaire! We need to get everyone on the boats now!"

"What?" Combeferre asked. Éponine set her eyes intently on his, they were wasting time.

"They aren't boarding us. They're sinking us!"

Understanding lit up their expressions, which began to reflect a panic Éponine felt deep in her stomach. They began shouting the same, and Éponine lost them in the sea of people. Her eyes began to franctically search the deck for a sign of Gavroche, but she couldn't find him. She ran towards the stairs and descended until she spotted her brother loading guns with powder, his hands dirty, his clothes smeared with blood.

"Gavroche, leave that!" she told him, and the boy ran to meet her halfway, a finished gun on either hand, "Get to the boats!" she shouted for the men who were loading their cannons. They didn't seem to listen. Just as she grabbed Gavroche's arm to lead him outside, a cannonball pierced through the wall and hit their powder barrels, the blast of the explosion sending her flying towards the wall. As she drifted into unconsciousness, the world seemed to be set on fire.

 

 

Éponine woke up to the lulling sound of waves running over her body. She was soaked, lying face down on the sand, her whole body covered in the sharp sting of cuts. She heard something else as she tried to stand up, -grunting sounds. When she looked at her surroundings, Éponine saw a horrendous scenery, one which would certainly remain stuck in some corner of her mind to haunt her future nightmares. 

The beach was littered with bodies. Some dead, some barely alive, some missing members. Éponine spotted Gavroche not far from where she was. She rushed and stumbled to get to him. Éponine thrashed his unconscious body as she called his name, but the boy didn't open his eyes. She looked for any sign of a deadly wound, but there were only cuts here and there, nothing serious enough to take his life. Éponine panicked as she inspected the men scattered around, searching for help, when she noticed she couldn't recognise her friends among them. 

There was no sign of Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Bossuet, Prouvaire... neither Grantaire or Combeferre, Bahorel or Enjolras... Marius and Cosette weren't lying on the beach either, and Éponine's breath caught as she held onto the thought that they were somewhere else, somewhere safe. She pushed the idea aside that they were more likely dead, drowned in the ocean, lost forever. She pushed the idea aside that Le Musain could have been sunk. Her friends, her home. She couldn't function if she let those thoughts take root, and she needed to go on breathing; she needed to wake Gavroche; they needed to find the rest.

Her mind was a mess, her whole body hurt, but Éponine continued to thrash her brother until he would wake. Before she could speak a word -call his name once more-, she felt a hard blow against her head. Éponine got a glimpse of Gavroche's chest rising and falling before it all turned black.

 

 

The room where she woke was dark. There wasn't a candle lit, neither a window that could let the sun in. Éponine could hear the waves splashing against the hull outside, but there wasn't any other sound around. Her breath hit the floor and it brought back a smell that made her heave. In the dark, she managed to sit up and stand. And then she heard the sound of iron grazing iron, and a door opened behind her, letting some light in. Éponine squinted her eyes and glanced around the empty room, until she turned on her feet, and found Montparnasse in the threshold.

"Hello, Éponine" he said, a delighted grin on his lips. 

He stepped closer to the woman, and she mirrored his movements in the opposite direction, stepping away from him until her back found a wall. When she couldn't get any further, Éponine just watched him approach, the lamp illuminating the room, letting her know she had been tossed into one of the cabins they used for prisoners whose time was running up. 

"It took you long to wake. I was afraid Gueulemer might have hit you too hard. Forgive him, he's still upset about Claquesous" Éponine felt her lower lip tremble. Montparnasse noticed the fear that covered her features too, and raised his left hand to brush her cheek tenderly. "I will keep him away, don't worry about him."

Éponine jerked her head away from his touch. She wanted to push him away as well, push and push until he disappeared out of the door again, until he fell off the edge of the earth; but she knew better. She wouldn't get anywhere that way, she had tried before. And she needed to know. 

"I'm not worried about him." Éponine was bruised and scared, but she gathered the strenght to let the words out with a defiance she barely felt inside, "I'm worried about my friends. What have you done to them?" 

Montparnasse's relaxed expression turned serious as he watched the woman.

"You seem to have forgotten" he said, pushing a lock out of her face, " _we_ are your friends, Éponine."

"Did you kill them all?" she insisted, earning a laugh from him.

"I missed your stubborn ways. But I didn't kill anyone, mind your words. They were casualties. Some of them survived; those are locked in the cells. The others either drowned or were hit by a cannonball."

Éponine shivered at the bluntness of his words. Through her mind raced images of her friends all meeting their deaths. She saw a flash of Enjolras drowning. She saw Cosette's open eyes not seeing. She saw a dismembered Grantaire staining the sea with his blood. Her heart was beating too fast, the images repeated but the faces changed, and every one of them felt like a blow to her core. 

Montparnasse's voice helped her out of her trance. "You wonder who died" he guessed, "you truly fear for them. Éponine, have you learnt nothing? The dead ones are the luckiest of the bunch. It's for the ones still breathing you should fear."

"Let me see them" she asked, holding her breath in when Montparnasse's face hovered too close to hers. She could see a spark in his dark eyes, a glistening that let her know he had come across a horrible idea. Then she felt his lips, slightly pressing hers. And unexpectedly, he simply pulled back and stepped away. Éponine let herself breathe again, although her mind was screaming at the feeling of being back under his thumb. She hated that sensation, how defenseless she was, how small he made her feel. How twisted his mind must have been to call what he put her through love.

"I have missed you so much, Éponine" he told her, taking a seat on a small stool in the center of the room and leaving the lamp to rest on the floor. "I wish it didn't have to be like this, but you have betrayed us twice already... not only that, you have killed one of us in the process. And now you must be punished."

Éponine closed her hands in fists, in fear and rage. She had been expecting this outcome, her unavoidable fate was finally approaching and it panicked her to think about whatever they would do to her... but she would fight. For her life, for answers as to her friends, and for a last chance to see them if death was what Patron-Minette had in store for her. 

"Let me see them" she asked again, her voice stronger this time, his reaction less threatening. Montparnasse just sat there looking at her. Éponine didn't move from her spot against the wall. Her feet might stumble if she did, her world could crumble down, as far as she knew.  

Montparnasse smiled wickedly as he nodded, "You will get to see some of them eventually. But first, you must answer this: has it been worth it? Were those little revolutionaries worth your life? Because that is the price you'll be paying."

Éponine thought about it. She thought about her life before them, and her life with them, and her life without them, and then her life back with them once more. And it felt like different lives, lived through the eyes of different people. They had changed her world; they had changed her shadows for light ,and laughter, and love. They had made it worth something. They had made her less miserable. 

Éponine looked defiantly at Montparnasse and she let him know: "Of course. I would do it all over again if I had the chance."

The man nodded in understanding. He stood from the stool and paced the room, the light of the lamp casting his moving shadow over the walls. 

"Even Claquesous?" he questioned, his dark eyes set on her, his steps lowering their speed. "Would you do that again, to be with them?" 

"I didn't kill him to be with them; I killed him because he wanted to kill me" Éponine hadn't intented to shout those words, but she had done it anyway. It made Montparnasse's pacing stop, and glare at her. She felt a knot in her throat, right where those words had escaped from. She saw his dead eyes again, -Claquesous- staring at the sky, empty of life. She felt the weight of the blade and how easily it had slipped inside him. She could feel her heart slowing its beating at the memories, in the same way it had slowed down when she realised she had killed him. 

Éponine felt the room grow quieter and the ship creak under the man's feet as he walked towards her. She was ready to feel his hand around her throat, or his fist against her jaw. But Montparnasse restrained himself once more and caressed her hair instead. Éponine couldn't hold the tears back any longer. They escaped, pushed by the sheer force of how vulnerable she felt, how shaken by the images in her mind, how conflicted by the relief it had overcame her when she figured she would survive that night. Éponine realised then, that this was a wound she would never be able to close. It would never stop haunting her, just like Montparnasse himself would never give her up. His touch told her he had no intentions of ending her life, despite what he may have warned earlier. Éponine felt shame, powerless at the idea that his touch was actually providing her some sort of comfort. How could such a man be capable of being terrible and at the same time comforting? Maybe he really did love her, after all, in his own way. Perhaps he did have a heart in his chest, buried under the weight of all of his atrocities. 

"Do cry for him, Éponine" he told her in a soothing voice, "death's overwhelming at first, but it will pass. You will grow to appreciate it. One day, without ever realising the moment in which something changed inside, you will crave it. Perhaps then you'll learn to see me too, like I see you." 

Éponine felt her body freeze at his words. He was completely mad. She got away from him and ran for the door, but he was close behind and seized her arm in a strong grasp. "Stop running away!" he screamed, irritated, "Haven't you understood yet, that you will always end up back here, where you belong?" Éponine trembled, her arm hurt under his hold but she couldn't get free. "Can't you see it, now that it has all come together? You were meant to kill Claquesous. You were meant to go back to them. It was fated all along, that those things happened, just so you could bring them here to me! So they can finally pay for daring to cross us!"

Éponine felt the tears sprouting again, but this time it was for her friends. "Let me see them" she begged, and Montparnasse released her arm in disgust, his eyes filled up with anger as he looked her over, as if he didn't recognise her. As if she wasn't the sane person in the room. 

"You will see them" he growled, and the words lingered in the air when he closed the door; words which sounded closer to a threat, than to a promise.

 

 

It didn't take long for a cry of pain to run through the ship, sending shivers down Éponine's spine. It didn't take long for her to hear Montparnasse's steps approaching the room again. And then he was right there, at the door, holding a plate out for her. His eyes glared in her direction, and all Éponine could find in them was madness.

"You asked to see them" he spat out, placing the plate by her feet and smirking. Éponine's breath caught at the sight in front of her, a muffled scream escaped her, "Wish granted."

Montparnasse left the room and Éponine shouted and banged at the door, crying for him to stop and torture her instead. She yelled and cried until her throat hurt, but he didn't come back. Éponine was all alone. Her friends were being tortured and there was nothing she could do. 

She slid down the wall until she was sitting again, her knees tightly held against her chest, her eyes inevitably set on that plate, and the bloody fingers it contained.

 

 

The door didn't open again. Éponine was left completely alone in her cell to do as she wished. But she only wished to leave.

 

 

Once the candle burnt out, time became something she thought she had made up. The silence in her cell was only interrupted by the occasional distant cry, a sound that reverberated so often in Éponine's mind, that she couldn't tell the imagined from the real ones anymore. Perhaps it was better that way, for she found some peace in the idea that maybe she was making this up too. Maybe her friends were alright, maybe their screams only existed in her head. She couldn't tell, but she was thankful for the not knowing.

 

 

Éponine knew it had been days inside that cell when a rotting smell filled the space -a smell like rotten flesh. She vomited in a corner, adding to the strong scent of the room, sitting as far away as possible from its source. She couldn't help but wonder whose smell might it be. She knew Gavroche had probably survived, she had seen him at the beach, unharmed; but the yell that haunted her mind hadn't sounded like him. He was fine, she told herself.  _But maybe he wasn't_ , she heard herself murmur too. Maybe they had killed him, maybe she had imagined his breathing back at the beach, maybe his flesh was rotting somewhere else away from there.

Whose flesh was she sharing the space with?

Her mind went through every one of their faces and hands, trying to establish some connection, finding ways to discard them all. 

She hoped they didn't belong to Combeferre, for he surely would need them to write; Prouvaire as well, he was always writing too. She hoped they hadn't been taken from Marius or Cosette, they would need them when they got properly married. She hoped they weren't Grantaire's or Bossuet's or Bahorel's, or their card games wouldn't be the same. She hoped they didn't belong to Feuilly, he wouldn't be able to cook by himself anymore, and he hated when others didn't cut the fish correctly. She hoped those fingers weren't Croufeyrac's, he needed them to sneak under the ladies' skirts, as he always did. She hoped they didn't belong to Enjolras, the world shouldn't be deprived of his caresses (oh, how she missed them). She hoped they didn't belong to Joly... if he was even really alive.

If any of them were still alive.

 

 

At some point, life seemed to Éponine as something she had made up. She didn't know how long she had been in there, but she knew she would never get out. They hadn't fed her, they hadn't even bothered to open the door to see if she was still alive. Éponine thought this was a cruel punishment, to wait for her to die, to let her starve to death, to let her alone to go mad in the meantime. She didn't deserve it. This couldn't possibly be what fate had in store, not like this. 

But it didn't matter how much she abhorred her punishment; the door didn't open again.

 

 

Curled up on the floor, Éponine felt her body weakening, her soul shutting down, her life drifting away. She thought it was fitting, at least, that she would die as she had lived, melted as one with the shadows. 

 

 


	18. The Night Before

The quietness of the place upset her. Its fresh air and clean faces felt too unfamiliar to her liking. 

Éponine had woken up to find herself lying on a bed, covered in warm blankets, her skin and hair free of any sign of her life at sea. Nothing remained in her, nor around her, of her life at Le Musain, neither of her death at L'ombre du Mer. Had she even died? Éponine felt like she had, so quiet it was in that place. But then someone would come into the room and check on her, and in those moments she knew that she had survived somehow. 

She drifted in and out of conciousness for a while, until one day she was strong enough to keep her eyes open and word some questions. "Mme Fauchelevent will talk to you when she comes." That was all the nun had offered; a name she didn't recognise, and no explanation as to her being there, under their care. What had happened? How had she ended up in a convent? What of the rest of them? Éponine glanced around for the thousandth time, but the beds remained empty; there was no one there but her. 

What did it mean, that they weren't there? What did it mean, that she was? 

Éponine felt weak, and confused. The stone walls and warm bed felt like a brand new prison from which she couldn't leave. She had tried standing up, but it had proven useless, her head spinned everytime. Her only comfort in that prison was the food, it brought her back to life little by little. The sunlight also helped. There were windows covering the wall at her left, and through them, Éponine could see a corridor, and past the corridor there seemed to be a garden. She saw figures passing by sometimes, nuns mostly. And then, that day she had managed to stay awake, she saw a light blue gown, passing by too fast for her to make out anything else. 

The door of the room where she stayed opened, and a woman walked in, her blonde hair falling over the shoulders of her dress, blue and not too fancy at all, but stunning enough in Éponine's eyes.  _Cosette_. The girl was walking towards her with a bright smile -she seemed an angel-, and when she reached the bed, Cosette held her lying form gently. Éponine held her too, and she breathed deeply, relieved to know she wasn't the only survivor.

"Mme Fauchelevent?" she asked once Cosette had sat in a chair by her side. "I thought your name was Valjean."

"It's a long story" Cosette replied, "How are you feeling? You look much better than when we brought you."

"I feel weak, but I'm better I suppose." Éponine saw an approving nod coming from the other girl.

"The nuns here have been taking good care of you. I have spent the mornings here as well, helping them... waiting for you to wake up. And I'm so glad to finally see you awake."

"But how did I end up here?" 

Cosette had said someone had brought her in, but who? Then, another question took away all of her attention. She uttered it, urgently. 

"Cosette, please tell me, did anyone else make it?"

Cosette smiled sadly, and took Éponine's hand in hers. Éponine feared the gesture, it felt like she was preparing her for a blow. It meant bad news. She looked worriedly at the girl, who was biting her lip, probably searching for the best way to tell her that everyone she knew was dead. Éponine feared the worst, the expectation driving her mad as she waited for Cosette's answer. 

"Cosette, you must tell me what happened." Cosette nodded, and then cleared her throat.

"We lost most of the men when Patron-Minette attacked us" she began, "barely a dozen of us survived. There was Marius, Prouvaire, Bossuet, Michel, Combeferre... Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Jacques, Bahorel, Enjolras and Feuilly and Bernard. And me. Then they brought in Joly too, and later Gavroche." Cosette paused, and Éponine was patient this time. She didn't remember much from the attack, but Cosette seemed to be seeing the images happening once again before her eyes. Besides, Éponine was too shaken about the list of survivors to demand anything else; she had heard more names than expected. After a moment, the girl took a deep breath and went on: "It was horrible, almost drowning when Le Musain began to sink... But it was worse to find ourselves their prisoners. They locked us in cells and tortured us... they killed Bernard and Michel..." Cosette shook her head, "they intended to kill us all, eventually, but first they wanted revenge. They did horrible things, Éponine... it was a nightmare. But one day, another ship attacked them, and they were defeated."

"Are they dead?" she asked, unsure of what emotion Cosette's answer would provide her. 

"Not then, but yes. Javert condemned them to the gallows for piracy and murder. They were hung a few days ago."

Éponine couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over her. She knew there was more to the members of Patron-Minette than the horrible things they had done, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel pity for their fate; not after what they had put her through; not when they were the cause of so much death. She wondered what Montparnasse had thought, when he finally figured he was wrong about their fates. But then, it occurred to her: "Javert?"

"It was the royal navy who rescued us" Cosette explained, her eyes turning into worry, "or rather, me. Javert let me go, as a debt settled to my father... But the rest of them were imprisoned. Éponine, they are awaiting their sentence in La Force. All of them."

Éponine felt her breath catch. They would be hanged. All of them. She didn't need a sentence to know that. Their revolution was over, they were already dead. 

Cosette squeezed her hand and Éponine looked her in the eyes. There was no comfort for the hollow sensation that had settled in her chest, and Cosette seemed to notice the change in her. But Éponine didn't give her time to ask, or to utter reassuring -empty- words; instead, she kept asking questions.

"And why am I here?" 

"They found you after they took Les Amis away. When I saw them carrying you, I couldn't believe my eyes. Éponine, we thought you had died; Patron-Minette never told us otherwise. I told the soldiers that you weren't part of our group, that I didn't know you, so they wouldn't take you to prison too. They left you here and then they took me to my father. And you know the rest."

Éponine nodded as she let the girl's words fill the blank spaces of her own recount of the events. They had all survived, there was no ignoring the feeling of joy at that piece of information. But there was no ignoring the anguish either. Yes, they had all survived, but what for? They were in jail, they would be judged, and sentended, and killed. The monster they had been fighting had won, and Éponine found it all utterly unfair. 

She felt selfish about it, but what she found most unfair was that she wouldn't get to see them one more time. She couldn't remember the last conversation she'd had with them. Did they? Did they think she was dead? Had they mourned her, like she would mourn them? Cosette saw the conflict inside the girl and placed a reassuring hand over her shoulder.

"Don't you dare settle on the worst yet, Éponine. As long as they are alive, I will have hope. And you must, too. I refuse to give up on Marius; on any of them."

Éponine saw determination in her eyes, mixing with the worry she had let slip earlier. Cosette might not be able to handle a sword, but she was strong anyway. It took a great deal of strength to be treated so harshly, to see the worst of the world, and still fight against the inevitable. Her determination was so evident... it felt contagious. It lit a tiny flame in the other girl's chest. Éponine felt like she couldn't give up either. She wouldn't disappoint her friends. She wouldn't let down Cosette, who was expectantly waiting for a change in her attitude; for a sign that she wasn't alone in her hope. 

"What can we do?" Éponine asked.

Cosette smiled relieved and proceeded to explain hersef to the girl.

 

 

 

When Cosette returned a few days later she informed Éponine that the sentence had been passed. Their friends would be hanged in seven days. They needed to get to work.

 

 

 

As soon as Éponine was strong enough, she was walking the streets of Paris with Cosette by her side. She had been provided with a simple green dress and a shawl -which had belonged to the other woman-, since the nuns had got rid of her manly attire. It felt strange, to not hide from the world anymore; but there was no time to worry about such things, there was a riot to stir.

 

During those days, previous to Les Amis' date at the gallows, Éponine and Cosette had been stirring the poor, searching for allies who would help them protest against the destiny of those who had fought for the people. They had gone beyond Paris, visiting the nearest towns, sending word to fellow republicans in the coast, reminding them of their friends' passion to their cause. And they found the people more than willing to stand up for the imprisoned. They weren't willing to let those who had fed and helped them for so long die. After years of suffering under a monarch, after years of injustice and misery, the people of France was ready to fight. And even those who weren't so willing, seemed to be convinced after Cosette's speeches. There was a flame in her eyes whenever she spoke which Éponine had never seen before, save in the eyes of Enjolras himself. It spoke of rage and resolution. There was no yielding her efforts to see the men finally free.

 

 

The night before, Éponine was unable to sleep. 

The events of the following day were chasing away her rest. As soon as she closed her eyes, she saw them lined up at the scaffold, their hands tied up, their necks surrounded by a noose. She imagined the fear in their eyes and their hearts thrumming in their chests, awaiting the moment in which they would stop beating at all. 

Then, a comforting memory crept in. She remembered the thrum of Enjolras' heart against her palm, and how soundly she had slept in his embrace. She remembered their rare moments of confidences, and their never ending arguments. She found herself missing his warmth and his weight beside her in bed. Was he missing it too? Was he missing her? Éponine remembered the quietness of their relationship once the night fell, and although she had no way of knowing whether they would live or not, she found herself terrified at the idea of never having Enjolras again, of him not existing anymore. And that's when she knew.

The night before, Éponine realised she loved him. 

 

 


	19. The Barricades of Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it!! The last chapter of this story I enjoyed so much writing.  
> I hope you have enjoyed this journey, and excused the over use of certain words and cheesy lines. I feel so happy that it's finally finished. I feel like it still has work left to be done, but I need to focus on other writings. Maybe one day I'll go over it and fix some things. For now, let me hear your opinions!  
> Thank you for reading, and lots of love to anyone who leaves kudos and comments.  
> 

Four years ago, Les Amis had taken to the streets of Paris and revolted against the tyranny of the powerful, in defense of those without a voice. They had built barricades and called the people to take a stand with them to rid once and for all of their oppressing monarch. But the people did not rise. They found themselves in the middle of a massacre. The barricades fell one by one to the iron force of the royal soldiers, Les Amis heard the cry of retreat from fellow revolutionaries and barely made their way to the ship that would become their home for the following years. 

The sea granted them a escape from the bounty set on their lives, while simultaneously providing them with a different way to defy the powerful and help those in need. Their lives became vastly different from what they'd planned, but they never gave up their fight. And so the spark of revolution was kept alive, and fed from the sea, and spread with every act of benevolence and every word they spoke. 

And so the king saw it only fit to make a great spectacle out of their deaths. 

 

There were hundreds of soldiers in the square, but there were even more people gathered to witness the way their ruling system would always have the upper hand. With their execution, the king not only got rid of some pirate rebels, but also put an end to the dream of a republic they had been spreading, while at the same time, reaffirming the power of the monarchy.

The scaffold was in the middle of the square, a line of soldiers guarding it and keeping the people at a distance. The sky was clouded, but with so much people reunited in the same place, the heat was unbearable. Or maybe it was her nerves. Éponine was standing with Cosette's hand tightly holding her arm, far from the scaffold but close to the corridor where the prison's carriage would drop the men. They would arrive any minute now, the murmur of the people anticipating the moment, making the seconds stretch, and the world spin slowly. 

Éponine looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, imagining for a moment she was back at Le Musain and the breeze of the sea was washing over her face. She missed the quietness. She missed them. Then she felt a drop of water on her cheek; it would rain, after all. And then unrest. 

Éponine opened her eyes when, in the distance, she started to hear the people announcing the arrival of the prisoners. There were gasps, and the murmurs got louder. The carriage stopped not so far from where they stood. Cosette squeezed her arm and when Éponine looked at her, she saw the defiance that had got them so many allies in the square that day. The blonde nodded and let go of her arm, and then Éponine felt the world take a faster speed.

Soon enough, she saw the prisoners being escorted towards the scaffold. Her breath caught. 

Before they could reach the place, though, it began. She couldn't tell where the shouting had started. It was dispersed at first, and then it spread quickly. The people were asking for mercy, for justice, for their freedom. Then the pushing began, and the mass of people moved as if carried by the tide. The soldiers withdrew their guns as they held back the mob, and when the shouts called for a revolution, for a republic, shots were fired.

There was a moment of complete silence, just a second in which every person in that place realised that something had changed. Awakened. They felt it in the air, and heard it in the shots of the soldiers. There was no point of return, the only way left was forward; in time, in history, in life. The spark of rebellion had been spread, but it was the guns which ignited the fire further until it was impossible to control.

And then the shouts resumed, and the fighting followed. 

 

Éponine pushed through the crowd as she retrieved a gun hidden under her skirt. Her eyes were set on the group of confused men whose hands were tied as the mob moved against their scorts. There were too many soldiers, more than they thought there'd be, but there was also more people putting up a fight than they could have expected, even as most of the crowd was trying to run away to safety. Éponine caught a glimpse of her friends and shoved her way to them, but before they could even notice her among the crowd, someone got to them first and freed them. And then they were mingling in the crowd as the soldiers aimed their weapons in their direction and shot, inevitably reaching the wrong people. 

Éponine kept pushing and running towards them. Some people were wrestling with the soldiers, but her friends weren't escaping, they were joining the fight. She saw Bahorel and Gavroche first. Then she spotted Feuilly and Prouvaire and Bossuet. Then she saw more soldiers coming their way and someone shouted "To the barricades!", and then the tide of people carried her closer and she saw them retreating. 

In the midst of it all, there were a few men trying to hold them back -undercover soldiers most likely- and that's when she finally reached them. Just as one of them was firing his gun, Éponine shot him and repeated the call of retreat.

"To the barricades!"

She unloaded whatever powder was left in her gun and used its butt to hit one of the men until he let go of Bossuet. Éponine helped Bossuet get to his feet and told him to run. He was astonished to see her, opened his mouth to say something, but Éponine pushed him and urged: "Go now! There are too many soldiers to fight here!" And he obeyed. The man sprinted towards where the rest of their friends had gone, and although Éponine wished to follow him and reunite with the rest, she was expected somewhere else.

 

As the crowd either fought or ran, the square seemed to be clearer. People had scattered into the adjoining streets, running towards safety or towards the places where the barricades would arise. Éponine ran, now unarmed, in the same direction where the rest had gone, but she wandered narrower streets in which she barely came across people. 

She knocked on the door four times -as agreed-, and it opened to let her in quickly before it shut again, putting her out of the rain's reach. Éponine felt her heart beating fast from the race. She followed Bernadette up the stairs, into the room where they had stocked up the guns. There were already a few people there.

"Is Cosette here? I lost her in the crowd."

"No" the woman said, wiping her hands in her already dirty apron. "Simon told us there were many soldiers, is it true?"

"It is, but there's many people fighting back."

"May the Lord have mercy" Bernadette said, making the sign of the cross. She then proceeded to pile as many weapons as Éponine could carry.

"Better pray that Simon brings more guns" she told the woman, "we will need them."

 

She didn't spend much time there, only the right amount to gather what she'd come looking for. Then, she was back on the street, the rain softly splattering against the heavy bag where she carried the guns and ammunition. Éponine was careful as she wandered the streets towards the place of their barricade. They had agreed on several different spots across the city where they would pile whatever they could get their hands on to use as a barrier. But given the amount of people that had rebelled earlier, maybe there would be more than planned. The one where she was headed was on Saint Denis. As she neared the place, Éponine encountered more people franctically going and coming and shouting commands. From what she could hear, they had been informed that troops were being gathered to crush their revolt. She also heard about the failed atttempt to bring down one of the barricades that had risen further west.

Éponine entered the abandoned inn, which was now full of men and women working either on weapons or wounds. She left the bag to be taken care of, and then she began searching every face for a familiar pair of eyes. But before she could see them, she heard them. Éponine followed their voices, picking up the skirt of her dress as she climbed the stairs two at a time. When she landed on the second floor, she felt her heart bursting with relief. 

They were all there, whole and safe and already taking over the planning of the rebellion. Éponine's mouth hanged open as she watched Bossuet and Courfeyrac and Prouvaire discussing about something she couldn't quite hear. She spotted Grantaire and Gavroche sitting on chairs, tended by Joly and Feuilly, and Marius standing before them. She saw Combeferre and Enjolras and Bahorel leaning over some maps. 

Her feet moved toward him before she could even think about it. She heard the rest of them call her name, and maybe that's what made him lift his head and catch a glimpse of her before her body collided against his. Éponine breathed relieved, her arms engulfing his shoulders, her cheek instinctively pressing against his temple, her eyes shutting to the world as she felt his arms closing around her too. He was safe. He was alive and in her arms. They might die later, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she could feel his breath against her shoulder, and that was enough for the time being.

"Éponine" he said as he put her down, looking at her with eyes wide open and an incredulous smile, "I thought..."

"We thought you were dead 'Ponine!" Gavroche finished as he hugged her from the side, making her shift her attention from Enjolras to him. "I wanted to go look for you when Bossuet told us, but they wouldn't let me."

"Where did you go?" Combeferre asked, positioning himself next to Enjolras.

"To get guns. I brought twelve, but I think we'll need more."

Éponine felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Grantaire looking expectantly. As if he was waiting for her to disappear under his touch.

"Forget that" he said, "how the hell did you make it?"

Éponine squeezed his hand "I'll tell you everything later. First, we must figure out how we're going to survive this."

"Will these help?" Cosette's voice asked behind her. There was a general gasp as they watched the woman carrying more guns and some swords. Éponine could hardly believe they were all under the same roof again, safe and ready to fight.

 

 

It was late that night, when they finally got to get some rest. They had spent all day planning, making inventory and keeping their guard up in case the soldiers decided to attack. And even though they hadn't seen any guns pointing in ther direction yet, they still didn't let themselves relax during the night, waiting for the moment in which either a shout or a shot would alert them of some hostile presence nearby. There had been people going and coming from the other barricades and, so far, they knew of at least seven which were still standing. Two others had fallen, but it didn't diminish the general sense of a possible victory; there was still a lot of work left for the soldiers to do if they intended to completely put out their revolution.

"I can't believe you were fine all this time" Grantaire commented, keeping a hushed tone for the sake of their friends' rest upstairs. They were the only ones up and awake in the kitchen, in one of the houses that had been opened for the rebels to occupy.

"Fine is not the word I would use. But yes, I guess it's hard to believe you are all alright too." She put a strand of dirty hair out of Gavroche's face. The boy had insisted on staying with them, but he had fallen asleep on the table some time ago.

"Alright is not the word I would use" Grantaire half-mocked, half-meant it. "I wish we could just go back to the sea and... just live. But now, we have a revolution to fight, thanks to you."

He seemed pissed about it. Éponine smirked. "It was the only way to set you free. You're welcome."

"Whatever" Grantaire shrugged it off. "I guess spending so much time with Enjolras has had its effect." 

Éponine raised her eyes to watch him, but stayed silent, unsure of how or what to reply to that. The room had fallen silent earlier too, when she'd hugged Enjolras; or maybe because she'd ran to him, urgently; or a combination of both. No one had asked about it, so Éponine thought that maybe they would forget, or see nothing in it. She should have known better; nothing ever went unnoticed to Grantaire.

"When exactly did that happen?" he asked, clearly amused, but apparently deciding to leave the teasing aside for the time being. "I mean, you two don't even interact."

"Clearly we do" Éponine replied, perhaps a little too defensive, "I mean, we do talk. We're friends... just like you and I."

Grantaire chuckled softly, shaking his head "Excuse me if I find that comparison impossibly inaccurate. And honestly, offensive to my sense of judgement. There was definitely more than just a hug shared between the two of you, I know it, I just would like to know  _how_."

Éponine felt the blush creeping on her cheeks, but she didn't look away. She stood her ground defiant until she found the words to explain it. 

"We got closer" Éponine said, and even to her ears it sounded like a poor excuse for a story. So she tried harder, "things were different when I returned. He was more trusting, and he was there when I needed it. We were friends. And then, one day, things just changed. It was unexpected."

"To say the least" Grantaire agreed serious. Then he ventured to say, "Do tell me. Who started it?" And there it was, the teasing. Éponine rolled her eyes as her friend grinned. "Oh, come on! It's Enjolras. I wasn't even aware he was capable of seeing women at all. I'm just curious."

"And you will remain so, my friend. That's all I'll say about that."

Despite the awkwardness inherently present around the subject, Éponine found herself enjoying the light-hearted conversation. Only Grantaire could make her feel like that after a day full of stories about surviving, and torture, and imprisonment. She couldn't lose him, Éponine realised. She may not feel for him what she felt for Enjolras, but she knew he held just as important a place in her heart as the other man did.

They talked like that for a while more, until they heard footsteps on the stairs and saw Enjolras appear at the kitchen. He seemed surprised to find Grantaire there, and cleared his throat to prepare what would surely be a poor excuse for his midnight wandering. But before the words could leave his mouth, Grantaire intervened. 

"I guess I should go to sleep now" he said. And without another word, he left the room, not before patting Enjolras on the shoulder on his way upstairs. Éponine shook her head at the teasing gesture that Enjolras had obviously not understood, because he didn't question it. 

Enjolras walked towards her, and with a tilt of his head, asked her to follow him outside where they wouldn't disturb Gavroche's sleep.

 

 

Éponine followed Enjolras through the corridor that led to the street. It wasn't raining anymore, but the night air chilled her bones nonetheless. They walked past the attentive eyes of whoever was keeping watch at the barricade and kept walking until they reached an alley not far from there. It was dark, not a single street lamp lit up. But neither that nor the cold were enough to make them go back. It was the first opportunity they had got to be alone, and they were used to the dark anyway. 

As soon as Enjolras stopped walking, Éponine laced her arms behind his neck and kissed him, pushing them both against the wall, or rather stumbling towards it until his back found brick. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since the last time she had had him between her arms, and Éponine felt a craving that she hadn't noticed she'd been carrying right until now. She felt his grip on her waist at first, but then his hands slowly travelled up her body until they settled on either side of her face, thumbs softly brushing her cheeks. 

Their breath was faltering once they stopped, forehead against forehead, eyes shut and fingertips tingling with anticipation. Éponine opened her eyes to meet his, which were observing her on the verge of tears.

"I really thought I lost you" he murmured, taking in a deep breath, taking her in. "I thought I would get to meet you again today, but not in this way..."

Éponine shook her head softly and buried her face in his shoulder. She breathed him in, the stench of weeks in a cell unable to completely cover the familiar scent of him. "I feared myself I wouldn't see you again" she confessed, a tiny lump in her throat. Now that she knew how she felt, what it was he woke inside her, Éponine knew she ought to let him know. It scared her, to utter words she had never said before, to let the feeling be born out of her lips to wander the world, vulnerable and exposed. Éponine had always feared those: vulnerability, exposure, being out in the open for everyone to see. But fear had rarely stopped her, and right there, with his arms wrapped around her, the fear she felt was outweighed by something else. "I love you" she said, a whisper against his ear.

His head turned slightly, until his eyes met hers. Enjolras was stunned, his mouth half open, his eyes searching hers for the words his tongue couldn't seem to find. Then, suddenly, his lips curved into a smile as he put a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think I have loved you for a while too."

She had no say about that. As soon as he was done speaking, his mouth was on hers. Éponine felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss. Her heart began racing and it felt like his did the same when she placed a hand over his chest. The soft skin under her fingertips was warm as they made a path across his chest, his collarbones more prominent than before, but his shoulders still strong under her caress. Enjolras seized her waist tightly as he turned them around, and then her back was against the wall and their mouths grew impatient. 

Éponine drew up the skirt that stood between them, guiding his hand to caress her leg as he left kisses along her jaw. His tongue was everywhere at once, she was breathless. They longed for the other, in a more urgent way than they ever had. Every inch of skin wrapped in unforgivable touches. Every grace of their lips echoing the words they had let slip moments before. Enjolras turned the caressing into a firm grip until he hoisted her up, holding her legs around his hips, his body pressed against hers as he found her lips again. A gasp escaped them both when their bodies reunited. 

Éponine had never felt more alive. 

 

 

 

The fight went on for weeks. The streets of Paris became a battlefield which only seemed to provide some kind of truce during the nights. And even then, war followed them in their sleep, or in the insomnia that kept their eyes open, hearing the cries of people who had lost someone in the hours of light. But their flame never wavered. The spirit of change flooded streets and minds; the whole country rose to its call. Their beliefs fed them in their lowest times, and the company of each other helped them see it all through. 

As the sun rose every day, they felt their dream slowly crawling within their reach, closer and closer with each day, with each death. They didn't rest until France was free. And once it was all over, the world changed, Éponine couldn't help a smirk at the thought that, perhaps, miracles did exist after all.

 

 


End file.
